#he can't even talk to me face to face he always runs and hides behind you
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elwolfen · 1 month ago
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I'm just always a bitch to everyone apparently and I'm told to go upstairs... certain people wonder why I stay in my room all the time
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ghostsprincess · 1 month ago
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I can't stop thinking about Ghost being such a gentleman when your boyfriend is an ass....
warning: domestic abuse, adult language
💀
You were mortified that it happened at work this time...
Your boyfriend was a brute of a man, made worse over the months by drinking alone at night while you bartended to help pay down your student debts from several years ago. He got a little rough with you, but only when he was plastered. And you forgave him, because he was decent the rest of the time.
But suddenly you had to start coming to the pub to pull pints with a little extra makeup on your face. The random patrons out for a casual drink wouldn't have noticed, but your regular boys did. You only knew them by Ghost and Soap. They were military and mean looking, but they laughed together like teenage schoolmates. It was always a good night when they sat at the bar, but you could often feel their eyes on you.
"Y' alright, love?" Ghost asked the first night you wore extra eye makeup and a bright red lipstick.
"Yes," you told him, not meeting his eyes. Your face hurt. Your boyfriend had slapped you two days ago. Your skin was puffy and bruised, and you were embarrassed and afraid to move out, so you stayed. "You boys need another round?"
They left you a sizable tip. They always did.
The next time you saw them, your lip was split open, and you were desperate for a way out of the mess your life had turned into. Trying to hide your face while you mixed drinks was a chore, and as soon as Ghost and Soap arrived, you knew it was useless.
When Soap disappeared toward the washrooms, Ghost leaned across the bar, his hulking shoulders taking up more than their fair of space, making you smile slightly. His voice was deep and soft, but his words made you shiver and freeze with your hand on a pint glass. "Y' know, a pretty little thing like you belongs on a pedestal. A man should touch you with reverence."
You stared at him silently as his eyes tracked the mark on your lip. When Soap returned, you didn't charge them a cent for their drink, but they tipped you well anyway.
When a confrontation happened at the bar, tears stung your eyes, and you wanted to hide. Your boyfriend was drunk and angry, and tonight he beckoned you from behind the bar to a dark corner near the hallway where he could have some privacy while he berated you and roughed you up.
"Please," you begged, running your hands nervously on your shirt. "Just go home. I'll be off work in an hour."
"How many of them have you fucked?"
"What?" you gasped, thinking he'd finally lost it. "What are you talking about? I need to get back to work."
He pushed you up against the wall with his other hand on your jaw. "How many of the men here tonight have you fucked?" His thumb brushed the spot on your lip that was nearly healed, and you flinched. "You have the guiltiest expression. So, tell me how much of a slut you've been. As your boyfriend, I need to keep you in line."
Then he was being hauled away from you as your legs shook. With wide eyes, you watched Ghost's massive bicep wrap around his neck like it was nothing. "Y' alright, love?" he asked you softly, and you nodded without saying a word. Then his face darkened, and his voice was an angry snarl as he told your boyfriend, "Ya' been relieved of your duties."
"The fuck?" he responded from his headlock, gasping for air.
Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fuckin' prick don't even know military protocol." Then he raised his voice a little louder. "I said, ya' been relieved of your duties. I'll take over from here."
Somehow, you found your voice. "Take over?"
Ghost's face softened again when he looked at you there against the narrow hallway wall. "With the boyfriend duties," he told you while Soap dragged your ex-boyfriend toward the exit. "Sound good, love?"
He was holding out his big paw of a hand, palm facing up, and you knew he'd be incapable of using it to hurt you. The softness in his gaze right now and every time he looked at you was proof enough of that. You didn't respond, but you smiled as you slid your hand into his grasp.
"That'll do for now," he grunted.
That was the night you came to know him as Simon.
💀
Part two
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lymtw · 5 months ago
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Satoru who is just so obsessed with you and actually becomes somewhat jealous when others make you laugh to the point where you're blushing. He's quick to misunderstand a situation when it comes to men getting overly comfortable with you. From what you understand, the jealousy doesn't run deep, but he does wonder sometimes—stupidly, if someone else will catch your eye and test your fidelity to him.
"How is it being with Gojo all the time? I get seeing him at work, but going home with him and spending all your time together...? It's got to be exhausting, no?"
This nobody doesn't even know Satoru. He's never gotten near him—never even spoken a word to him. It's infuriating that he even assumed you're exhausted from spending time with the person you the love the most, but you smile anyway, and respond as politely as you can.
"Satoru can be a handful at times, but that's one of the many things I love about him. He's funny, and even though sometimes he acts like he runs around without a brain, he is one of the smartest men I know. He takes care of me." You chuckle, recalling a warm, fond memory.
Satoru watches your conversation with the man from the bar on the other side of the room. He sees you smiling and nodding, and his heart starts beating faster. He understands that he has to keep his cool. What is he missing that you can find in someone else? You're with him for a reason, and you've never been one to hide things from him. There's no need to feel insecure.
He knows he can't stop you from talking with other people. You can interact with whoever you want because his jealousy isn't to be mistaken with control, but it's hard not to stay by your side all the time. You've never given him any reason to doubt the strength of your relationship, but he just doesn't trust other men around you. He knows men are dogs, chopping it up with any pretty girl with no regards to whether they're in a relationship or not. What he does know is that he wholeheartedly trusts you. You would let him know if someone was taking it too far, wouldn't you?
VS
Satoru who is so obsessed with you and content with the fact that you are almost always within arms reach of him. He feels so secure knowing he gets to leave work with you every day only to spend more time with you at home.
At night, you lay facing each other, one of your legs thrown over his hip and one of his hands running up and down your waist. You talk about insignificant things that result in significant memories. You whisper and giggle about the dumbest things, until your sentences don't make sense because of how tired both of you are. You cling onto him and tell him you love him, lazy kisses pressed to his lips with every cliffhanging word that is threatened by sleep.
On lazy Sunday afternoons, you lie in bed together watching scary movies. He knows the plots aren't real, and that the monsters and hideous things that appear aren't real either, but your fear of them is. He purposely chooses these movies because he knows you won't focus on them and turn to give him all the attention when you're too scared. Anything to distract you from the terrifying things that are seemingly about to pop out of the screen. While he pretends he's focusing on the movie, he grins as you begin to shower him with your affectionate kisses. One for his neck, one for his cheek, oh... there goes another one for his neck. He lays there, a few chuckles slipping when you kiss his chin and his nose. You mumble little sweet nothings to him that have him grinning ear to ear. He can physically feel the love you hold for him and it's heavenly.
Satoru loves that you've always been shy about your needs. He loves the way you react when he kisses you anywhere that isn't your face. He knows neck kisses are a weakness for you and he uses that knowledge against you when he wants to see you get flustered.
He'll come up behind you, put his hands on your waist and start kissing your shoulder, slowly trailing the sweetness towards your neck. He knows he's affecting you because after a minute of him mouthing up your sensitive points, you stopped what you were doing and just felt him. His hands peel your shirt off your stomach and glide upward, towards your chest. He can hear your shaky breathing more clearly.
"'toru?" You call, meekly, your hands clenched into fists.
"Hm?" He gives your breasts a squeeze, not letting up on his work on your neck.
"Satoru," you repeat, clear surrender in your tone. You use his full first name to grab his attention, yet it still sounded so sweet.
"You can do it, baby. Tell me what you want."
You get so nervous when he starts talking like this. It makes your chest feel tight, and your stomach swarms with butterflies. You want to run away, but his hands are so warm and he's holding you like you're the most fragile thing to ever exist.
You turn around and quickly bury your face in his chest. Satoru caught a glimpse of the rosiness dusting your cheeks, and the tips of your ears were noticeably glowing, the cute reactions earning a chuckle from him. His hands dragged down your back, and he palmed your ass before going slightly lower to clasp around the backs of your thighs. He lifted you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.
"My pretty girl is so shy. Don't worry, I know what you like," he says, directing both of you to the bedroom.
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rosenclaws · 2 months ago
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Don't hide from me || Logan Howlett x Reader
summary: You get hurt on a mission and hide it from Logan. Safe to say he is not happy with you.
warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, talk of violence, blood, and injury
wc: 3k
a/n: Hi guys, tw for pet death but we had to put my childhood dog to sleep today. He was 16 and he had a good life but it's rough. Writing has always helped me so I just sat down and wrote today. I'm always a sucker for this kind of trope and I also have trouble asking for help so this was born. Idk if I like the ending but I always struggle with those so oopsie
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This was not how you imagined your first mission to go. You had assumed it would be easy, boring in fact. It was supposed to be boring. Maybe a little fighting here or there but nothing serious.
Well you were sorely mistaken. Your hand puts pressure on your side as you lean against a tree. The rough bark digging into the cuts on your suit. You wince as you look down to see a massive gash right in your stomach.
"Fuck." Your breath is labored as you slowly slide down the tree. You don't heal like some of the other mutants can. In fact your powers were relatively tame compared to others but you were still an asset to the team.
You had been training for months and months. Learning to control your sparks into blasts of energy and manipulate the electricity around you. You had never been more excited to receive your suit. Handed to you by Logan himself after your final training day.
The proud look on his face made your whole body fill with butterflies. Logan had been your biggest help. He was a very distracting teacher though due to the fact that he's your boyfriend too but if anything that made him push you harder.
"Come on sweetheart, you need to do better than that." He says with a smirk. He's barely broken a sweat while you've been giving it a hundred and ten percent.
"Fuck off." You huff as you lay down on the mat. Body exhausted from the hours of training.
"You're getting better. Just need to keep working." He steps over you, bending down and holding out his hand.
"One more time and we're done." He helps you up and kisses your forehead. Walking back to his spot he raises his arms and braces himself.
"Hit me." Taking a deep breath you channel all your power to your fingertips. Feeling the jolts of power start to form. With all your strength you fire right at Logan. To your surprise it hits him square in the chest and sends him flying into the wall.
"Logan!" You run over to him but he's already up by the time you make it. A big smile on his face as he wraps his arms around you. A burst of pride in your chest as he kisses you sweetly.
"I knew you could do it."
It made it even sweeter when you were finally deemed ready to join them. You were ready. You wanted to prove to all of them that you could do it but most of all you wanted to show Logan.
Show him that all his extra training helped and that you were strong and you could do this on your own. He had always shown a slight worry about you joining the team. He says it's because he's worried and protective but a small part of your brain tells you it's because he thinks you can't do it. That you're not ready.
So this. Well it almost felt embarrassing. The mission was nothing new to the rest of the team but to you it was overwhelming. Fighting with everything you had and sometimes it felt like it wasn’t enough. You took out soldier after soldier but they kept coming. But you were fine. You never asked for backup. Convincing yourself that you could do this. Thinking back to all your long days in the simulation and wiping away any doubt that lingered in your head.
Logan had left your side early on much to his reluctance so you were on your own. You were too focused on the guy in front of you that you didn't notice the man sneaking behind you. You cried out in pain as he dug his knife into your side.
Without thinking you blast him far away, taking out the guy in front of you too. Pure adrenaline courses through you as you run to safety. Now you're here, the sounds of fighting still rage on behind you. Blood is seeping onto your hand at a faster rate than normal.
"Okay. Okay. Okay okay." Sorry Professor but you'll fix your suit later. Your sleeve was already torn so you tear the rest as much of it as you can off. Turning it into one long strip of fabric. You unzip the top of your suit to get to the wound. They briefly taught you how to patch up injuries more akin to scratches not stab wounds. You tie the fabric tightly around your waist. You groan as the pressure shoots a sharp pain through your body. The sounds of fighting were dying down.
You know you should tell someone but the last thing you wanted was to be taken off the team after your first mission. You wanted to make them proud. You loved being on the team.
The injury isn't that bad, if you could just make it back to the mansion you would be fine. Patch it up with the right material and then sleep it off. Thank god you and Logan didn't share a room. Fuck. Logan. He was going to kill you but what he didn't know won't hurt him.
Just this once.
Zipping up your suit again you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. Just make it back to the mansion. You walk as best you can back to the jet. Your limping, favoring your non injured side and it's incredibly obvious. Still you put a smile on your face. The team clocks your ripped sleeve immediately. Logan scowls as you get closer making you shiver. Or maybe that was from the blood loss.
"So how was that for your first mission?" Scott beams as he walks over to you. He slaps his hand onto your shoulder and you wince.
"Good. Is it always like this?" He notices something's off but doesn't say anything. Instead he keeps his hand on your shoulder as he guides you back to the jet.
"You alright Sparks? What happened to your suit." He asks when you get closer.
"Long story, some guy ripped it and when I ran to the forest it got caught and just. tore away." You lie right through your teeth.
"Don't worry we'll fix it when we get back." Ororo smiles and you thank god they bought it. Well almost everyone bought it.
As you head up the ramp you feel a hand on your side. Your whole body tenses as pain shoots through your side. You bite your lip hard to keep yourself from screaming. You recognize the hand as Logan's as his wide chest bumps against your back.
"You alright sweetheart?" He asks, a skeptical look on his face as you wave his hand off.
"Yeah, just really tired." You sigh as you sit in a chair.
Some relief spreads through your body as you subtly press the arm of the chair into your side. Putting more pressure as you feel the blood soak through your makeshift bandage. He narrows his eyes as he inspects you like an animal. Your heart picks up as he places both hands on either arm rest, caging you in as he leans close.
"What are you doing?" You shrink under his intense look. He sniffs and a low growl emits from his throat.
"I smell blood. Somethings wrong." Fuck. He's caught you. The rest of the team starts to file back in.
"Yeah there's blood on everyone's suit, there's blood on you." You mumble as an excuse.
"Down boy, we're taking off so take a seat." Scott says. Logan stays put for just a moment longer before he finally backs off, flipping Scott the middle claw as he takes the seat behind you.
You can feel his eyes burning in the back of your head the whole flight home. You were sweating, body on fire as you focused on your breathing. The pain was getting worse and you wanted to cry for help. But you were determined to prove yourself here.
Your brain wasn't exactly working right either. Too focused on not throwing up to think logically. Finally the jet lands. You're so close. Just a little longer. Logan moves to go right back to your side but gets pulled away. You can vaguely hear him telling someone to fuck off as you stumble out of the jet.
You feel like a zombie as you walk back to your room. Stomach growing sick as you struggle to stay awake. Sweat pours down your face, body screaming for help as you barely make it to your room. Your vision goes in and out. The darkness calling to you as you swing open your door. That sounds nice, you can just close your eyes and sleep. Yeah. Then you can fix yourself up. Your vision goes black. The last thing you remember is someone yelling your name.
-
The first thing you notice when you come back to consciousness is how much your body hurts. The second thing was the hand that was holding yours tightly. Clearly you weren't in your room anymore. This bed is too uncomfortable and it smells too much like antiseptic.
The lab. You were in a hospital bed in the lab which means that someone found you which can only mean that Logan knew and you were in so much trouble. Maybe if you keep your eyes closed you can just go back to sleep. The urge to avoid the consequences of your actions was strong but you knew you couldn't. You lied and now you have to deal with it.
Surprisingly it's dim when you open your eyes. The ugly florescent lighting was off in favor of a few candles and a soft lamp. The hand holding yours twitched, holding you tighter. Looking to your side you see Logan laying his head on the bed. Guilt seeps into your soul when you see him there.
"Glad to see you awake." A soft voice says from the door.
"Jean." You sheepishly say. She flicks on the lights and you squint your eyes at the bright light.
"You're lucky that Logan found you when he did." Her voice is gentle but there's anger hidden behind it.
"I'm sorry. I thought." You sigh and look at Logan who was still sleeping.
"I thought I could handle it. I just wanted to be one of you guys." "You already were one of us, but we're just glad you're okay." She checks your vitals once more in silence.
"Am I in trouble?" You ask nervously.
"Yes." Another voice makes your heart jump, the monitor picking it up with a massive spike.
"Logan honey I-" He holds up his hand and silently asks Jean to leave. She gives you one last smile before leaving the two of you alone.
"Don't. Don't you dare." You shrink into the bed as speaks.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
"I-"
"Hiding a fucking stab wound? For what? Exactly what did you think would happen here!" He raises his voice and you look down in shame.
"You are benched. Permanently." He growls, standing up and storming towards the door.
"What! Logan you can't do that."
"Fuck yes I can. Do you understand how stupid it was for you to hide an injury like that? How irresponsible you were!"
"I thought I could handle it!" The machines near you started to go haywire as you yelled back.
"I thought you were dead!" You go silent as the anger fades, he clenches his fists tightly.
"I smelled the blood and I knew something was wrong. The whole time I knew it. There was a trail of blood to your room and I ran and ran and when I finally got there." He pauses. Not even wanting to say the next thought.
"I'm sorry." You whisper.
You reach out for him but he just stares at you. A painful expression on his face as his eyes zero in on the prominent scar on your side. He shakes his head, turning away and walking out the door.
"Logan please." You beg for him to come back but he doesn't.
The lab is silent and lonely. Jean comes back to check on you, comforting you as you silently cry. All you want is for Logan to come back but he never did.
At least not while you were awake. In the mornings there were traces of Logan. His jacket is left on your bed the one you always steal to cuddle with. Snacks are waiting by your table. Little things to show you had still been there. Just not when you were awake.
It was only a couple days later that you were finally discharged. The Professor had called you to his office, letting you know that you were benched until you had fully recovered and you nodded in understanding. You can feel the stares of the rest of the mansion on you as you walk back to your room.
You've apologized over and over to the team and they welcomed you back with open arms. Begging you to never scare them like that again. Your mind wanders and your feet seem to think on their own as you find yourself in front of Logan's door.
All you want is for him to hold you and to tell you it's okay. Before you can knock on the door it swings open. There he stands in all his glory. He stares at you for a moment before pulling you into a hug. It takes you by surprise but you hug him back tighter. You wince as he pushes a little too hard on your side and he lets go instantly. You don't want to let go, he's been gone for days and you need him.
"I'm here to apologize." You say.
"I'm sorry for not saying anything. I was afraid that you would think I'm weak." It hurts to admit but he needs to know the truth. Asking for help has never been your strong suit.
"That I wasn't strong enough and all I wanted was to prove to you that I could do it. I wanted you to be proud of me." You wait for any response but all he does is look at you. Silently he guides you to his bed. Wrapping a blanket around your shoulders that smells like him.
"When I found you, you weren't moving. There was so much blood. You were barely breathing." He shivers at the memory.
He doesn't think he'll ever get the smell of your blood and the sight of you sprawled out on the ground out of his mind. It's burned there. Every time he closes his eyes he sees it. He ran through the mansion. Begging for help with you in his arms.
They kicked him out once he brought you to the lab. He was close to breaking down the damn doors. He had super strength and a raging healing factor but he'd never felt so powerless before. When they finally let him back in he rushed to the bed. He never left your side. Watching and waiting for you to wake up. Begging you to wake up.
Was this his fault? If he had been by your side would he have been able to help? Or is this just the price of this life. To be a mutant and having to fight just to live. Losing you was not an option but it was becoming a reality he had to accept was possible.
"I'm always proud of you. Doesn't matter what you do. I'm always proud." You tug on his tank top and pull him close.
Kissing him with a soft passion, a desire, an apology. He carefully lowers you down to the bed. He lays you on your side as he deepens the kiss, hand ghosting over the scar as he tangles his limbs with yours.
"I'm so sorry Logan." You bury your head in his chest.
It feels so good to be by his side again. He tilts your head up to look at him. He grows serious as he brushes your cheek gently. You're alive but there's still a horrible worry inside of him. Though he doesn't think that will ever go away. Not as long as he loves you and he's never going to stop doing that.
"Don't ever do something like this again. I'm serious sweetheart, I can't lose you."
"You won't." You can't promise him that. Not at all. Bad things happen to those he loves but he'll be damned if he lets anything happen to you. You yawn and cuddle closer to his side.
"How can I still be so tired after sleeping for so long?"
"You really hurt yourself sweetheart," He glances at your side. Knowing that under the blanket was a scar that would never fade. A constant reminder of his own failure to protect you.
"I'm sorry for leaving," He knows it was a dick move to leave has he had done but he couldn't take it. He was so angry. So afraid.
"Just don't leave me again." You say sleepily. His arms wrap around you, his hand rubbing your back soothingly until you fall asleep. He watches you for a while. Not tired himself but keeping his promise of staying with you.
"I was so scared," He admits to no one but himself.
He rests his chin on your head. The sound of your heartbeat echoes in his ears. The sweet reminder that you're okay. He closes his eyes as the nightmares in his mind return. Seeing your lifeless body. The blood. All of it. He tries to shake them away but the thoughts still linger.
"Please, don't leave me. I love you too much to let you go." He whispers his plea to himself, to you, to whoever is listening.
He kisses the top of your head and you smile in your sleep. The comfort of Logan reaching your dreams. That's good enough for him, as long as you're okay. That's all he needs.
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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago
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𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 | boyfriend's dad!cillian murphy x reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | for some reason, your first instinct after the breakup was to talk to his parents; maybe because you'd come sort of uniquely close to them, for a relatively short relationship. you might not have gone to their house if you'd known you'd find mr. murphy there alone...
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 4k
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (18+ ONLY!! unprotected sex, creampie, oral m and f receiving), age gap (reader's age unspecified, cillian is 45+), hurt/comfort (but, you know, sexual comfort), infidelity, slight manipulation/coercion since the reader is very vulnerable at the time, somewhat inexperienced reader, degradation and praise, a little bit of breathplay, hair pulling, slight dacryphilia?, reader is slightly implied to be an immigrant/foreigner
note: yes I use his real name but this is just fiction and not meant to have anything to do with the real cillian murphy or his life/family so please keep that in mind!
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He had a smile on his face as he opened the door and greeted you, but it fell instantly when he saw you biting down on your quivering lip, looking down to hide how red and watery your eyes were.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, voice heavy with concern as he reached out and rubbed your shoulder. "Oh, god— come in, come in— what's going on?"
He ushered you into the house, shutting the door behind you and wrapping his arm around you as you sniffled. "I-I'm sorry—" you began instantly.  “I thought— I don’t know why I even came here…”
But, actually, you sort of did.  You’d been wanting to talk to Cillian’s wife, hoping for some motherly advice, until he answered the door and you abruptly remembered she was in England on business for a week or something.  And you couldn’t exactly show up on somebody’s doorstep crying and say ‘oh, sorry, I thought your wife would be home— I’ll come back in a few days’.
You weren’t disappointed by running into him instead, really, you just felt a little weirder about it.  The two of you had never actually been alone before.
"Don't apologise," he soothed, "it's okay, just tell me what's happened. Are you alright?"
"Yeah," you sighed, trying to compose yourself a bit as he guided you to sit on the couch with him. "Yeah, I'm okay, I just... um, well, it's sort of stupid—"
"I'm sure it's not," he offered with a small laugh, "if it's got you this worked up."
"We, um... I think we broke up?"
"What?" he breathed, knitting his eyebrows together— he cared more than you expected... but it sort of made sense, Mr. Murphy had always made you feel welcome here. Mrs. Murphy too, maybe ina different way. Yes, it's bizarre to respond to being dumped by going to visit the guy's parents, you needed a sort of... mature, familial presence right now while you were so far from your own.
You took him through the whole drama as efficiently as possible, trying to regulate your crying so he could actually attempt to make out what you were saying. He listened thoughtfully, perhaps with too much attention compared to what you expected— after all, this was stupid college drama and he was so much more mature than all that. Still, you appreciated a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.
"And, uh, that's how he ended it," you finished with a sigh, sniffling as you recalled the heartbreaking conversation. "He basically told me that he's too young to be stuck with one person, and he needs to 'explore his options'..."
"Then he's an idiot," Cillian groaned, "and I hate to say that about my own son— but he's a fuckin' idiot."
"Well," you mumbled, "I don't know— I thought maybe he had a point. I mean, we're pretty young..."
"But look at you, honey," he offered pityingly, "you can't tell me this is what you wanted."
"No, but—"
"And yes, you're young," he added, "but not too young— not if it's real."
You bit your lip to stop it from shaking any more, and he cooed at you gently as he reached up to rub your shoulder.  
“Poor girl,” he breathed.  “Honestly, I always… well, maybe I shouldn’t say it now…”
You looked up at him expectantly, and he smiled nervously as he glanced away.
“Well… I guess I always thought that you could do better,” he admitted with a soft laugh, “but, you know, I didn’t want to say anything, of course.  He was lucky to have you, and I just hoped he would treat you right, but…”
“I thought I was the lucky one,” you replied with a thin smile and another little sniffle.  “He could be really sweet, you know— he used to be.  And I always thought he was, uh, sort of… you know, out of my league.”
“Oh, honey, no,” Cillian frowned, moving his hand up to your face and holding your cheek, wiping a small tear away with his thumb.  “You’re gorgeous.”
You laughed awkwardly, not sure what to think— or how to think— with him looking at you like that.  “I… I don’t know, you’re sweet, but—”
“No, really,” he assured, and only when you met his gaze did you realise how close he was.  You wouldn’t call it too close, only because it didn’t bother you like you knew it should.  “You’re so beautiful.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing actually came out… there was nothing to say.  He was coming closer, you knew it, and you wanted to reach up to stop him just as much as you wanted to shut your eyes and give into it.  You ended up sort of splitting the difference: you rested your hands on his shoulders, but didn’t push him away, and gasped slightly just before he kissed you.  Even a second of resistance could’ve given you some plausible deniability, but no, you fluttered your eyes shut and kissed him back; it didn’t help that you could feel how warm and strong he was through the t-shirt, holding on tighter to his shoulders with a hum.
His hands wandered to your waist, pulling you into him— and you were like putty, embarrassingly enough. With him kissing you like that, you really couldn’t do anything but let him pull you around wherever he wanted.  His lips were soft and gentle, his tongue teased you so carefully, and he even sighed against your skin in the sweetest way… you were totally helpless already.  
Sure, some part of you knew how fucking bizarre this was— that you were kissing Mr. Murphy, your boyfriend’s dad— well… ex-boyfriend’s.  You weren’t blind, you noticed how attractive he was when you met him, but you’d managed to successfully ignore it since then.  It made sense, after all, since the first thing you’d noticed about your boyfriend was his good looks… but Mr. Murphy was handsome in a totally different way.  Strong and broad— not especially massive or anything, still a lean guy— with thin streaks of grey in his hair, a patient sort of smile, subtle wrinkles around his eyes that added a sense of wisdom to his expression… really, he was a bit more of your type.  But that was something you had forced yourself not to acknowledge— until now.
You sat up slightly, holding onto his neck, breathing in sharply through your nose as you kissed him back a little harder.  You could feel him smiling— god, even just that made you feel so desperate— and he even moaned ever-so-quietly when you ran your fingers through his hair.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathed against your lips, breaking away just enough to make you open your eyes— his lashes seemed especially long as he looked down at your legs curled up on the couch (and his hands petting them slowly.  “You haven’t been treated properly for a long time, have you?”
You whined in the back of your throat involuntarily as you nodded— how could he see right through you like that?  It wasn’t like it was bad with your ex, it was just… not good.  Not enough.  You wanted to feel wanted, not used— not a means to an end.
“Will you let me?” he asked softly, breathing beside your ear on his way in to kiss your neck.  You gasped, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, head falling back to give him as much of you as he wanted.  His tongue was fucking fiendish, the way he used it to tickle along your pulse, the sharpness of his teeth making you jolt only for him to soothe you with his plush lips.
“Yes,” you panted, “fuck— I, god, I can’t believe we’re doing this…”
He laughed a little.  “I can,” he admitted.  “All I could fucking think about since I met you…”
That surprised you— you’d never noticed anything that would’ve made you think he thought of you that way… but knowing that he, apparently, had made a shiver run up your spine.
He certainly hid it well, playing the part of the slightly-embarrassing dad and polite husband so well that you never would’ve known… oh god, his wife.  You didn’t want to think of her now, yet the unavoidable memory stirred arousal alongside guilt in your gut.  You had no idea you were this sort of person— but you weren’t really operating logically right now, anyway.
He held your face again as he pulled back, petting your cheek— it made you feel especially juvenile when he did that, holding your chin to examine you.  This wasn’t really the ideal state for you to be looked at, in your opinion, with you having been crying all evening.  But he looked amazed by you, even if it was just for a moment before he looked down at your body and smirked.
“Take this off,” he instructed, tugging at your shirt slightly.  You thought it would’ve been a little more romantic if he helped you out of it, but it was alternatively a bit sexier that he was just going to sit back and watch you strip for him.  It must have been his way of demonstrating his power over you, that you were just going to take it off and toss it aside without question.  Which, of course, you did.
He smiled proudly at the sight, and before you could even get your bra off, he started to carefully tease you through it— fingers running around the edge, moving the straps off your shoulders, tickling up your sides as you shifted nervously on the couch.  
“Look’t that,” he whispered proudly, and you took a second to realise that he was referring to your nipples getting hard enough to poke visibly through the fabric; you felt self-conscious all of a sudden, even if he was clearly enjoying what he was seeing.  “So needy, huh?”
“Y-yeah,” you admitted, whining when he reached inside the cups and ran his fingers over your breasts— they usually weren’t so sensitive.  “Fuck,” you breathed, shutting your eyes as a way to try to escape his gaze.  “I… I need you.”
“Fuck, baby, don’t talk like that,” he groaned, “m’gonna try to take my time with you— how am I supposed to do that if you say such lovely things?”
His lips were on your neck again— and he was leaning you back, laying you down under him, tugging your shorts down with a bit more urgency than he’d had before.
When you were basically naked— or at least, your bra and panties pushed out of the way enough that he could see what he needed to— he purred at the sight, grinning as you hastily undressed yourself the rest of the way.  
"Of course he couldn't appreciate this," Cillian sighed, baring his teeth just a bit. "Of course he couldn't appreciate a perfect fucking body like this— a perfect little pussy like this..."
You were about to open your mouth to say something, though you hadn't even decided yet what it would be, but only a low moan came out when he held your legs open and dove between them, humming as he lapped at your clit. You couldn't imagine why you were so sensitive, but your whole body was shaking already just from the gentlest motions of his tongue...
"Fuck," he said, muffled against your skin, before he pulled back enough to bite playfully on your thigh. "Fuck, darling, you taste delicious. Christ. You're too perfect..."
He devoured you again, exploring all over you with his tongue as your thighs kept instinctively clamping down on his head. He kept looking up at you through it all, even when you couldn't stand to meet his gaze and had to arch your back from the pleasure. "Fuck!" you yelped, grabbing tightly onto his hair. "Fuck, Mr. Murphy, I— oh, god..."
"He never made you come like this, did he?" Cillian realised with a groan, nearly growling when you shook your head. "Has anyone?"
"N-no," you shakily admitted, and he moaned around you as he suckled harder on your clit for a moment until you whined loudly.
"Oh, poor thing," he cooed, "how could anyone taste this sweet cunt of yours, and not want to spend hours between your legs?"
He didn’t need to spend hours, though— the taboo nature of the situation seemed to turn your body into overdrive, making you so sensitive and desperate… or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, but it was hard to say.
The point is, all too soon, you were shivering under him, back arching up off the couch, holding on tightly to his hair.  He hummed approvingly, even moaning against you as he slid his tongue inside; he must have been able to feel you pulsing, moving closer and closer to the edge, because he shut his eyes tight and seemed to focus harder and pushing you further until you couldn’t take anymore.
“Fuck, fuck!” you sobbed, thighs shaking around his head; there really was no exploration to it, no teasing, he just went right in and expertly played you like he’d done this a thousand times.  Maybe he had… but, obviously, he’d never done it to you.  Were you that easy to solve?
Obviously, that question suddenly became the last thing on your mind as your orgasm wracked through you.  He growled encouragingly, still keeping his pace, but you could barely hear it past the ringing in your ears— and your own cries of his name, of course.
He only broke away when your squirms turned into real avoidance: you could only take so much, especially with him suckling on your clit like that.
You were almost nervous to open your eyes again— and you were right, he looked so gorgeous between your legs, obviously smug with having just made you come, it was nearly criminal.
“Is it really that easy to make you come, honey?” he laughed, petting your legs sweetly as he pulled back, looking up at you with a proud grin.  “That’s so fucking cute, baby…”
As he sat up again, wiping the slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, you got this weird, clingy feeling— wanting to chase him even just as he barely moved away.  
But he’d sat up for a reason, and you started to realise it when you sat up, too, and noticed the thick bulge in his jeans.
"Why don't you show me what you can do, sweetheart?" he encouraged with a smile, opening his belt for you. "I'm sure you've learned a thing or two..."
Though you still felt terribly nervous about it, you leaned forward towards his lap. Would it be awful to admit your mouth watered when he freed his cock from his jeans and boxers, holding it out for you as a little bead of precum formed at the tip?
"Show me, baby," he whispered again, "and look up at me."
You nervously blinked up at him, meeting his gaze from his lap, as you wrapped your lips around his swollen head. He bit his lip right away and reached up to hold onto your hair, groaning as you swirled your tongue.
"Fuck," he smirked, "you're sort of a tease, aren't you?"
You weren't trying to be, really, but it didn't sound like he minded too much...
"Oh, fuck," he moaned deeply, making you pulse inside as he tilted his head back. "Fuck, baby, that's good— your mouth is so fucking warm..."
He gasped and panted as he held your head, guiding it to bob just a little faster than you had been moving. "Sweetheart," he choked, "you're so fucking good... fuck!"
The praise made your chest fill with warmth, even if there was still some part of your brain that was recovered enough from the orgasm to remember how horrible this all was.  It was horrible, but perfect— and feeling his cock throb against your tongue was perfect, too.
You’d never been told you were so good at this before, but he kept moaning and petting your head encouragingly, whispering the most wonderful and filthy things.  “Just like that, honey,” he cooed, “mm— pretty thing… knew that mouth of yours would feel so fuckin’ good… just keep sucking my cock, sweetheart.”
That you did— harder and faster, stroking what your mouth couldn’t fit, moaning softly around him.  As you tried to take it deeper, desperate to please him, you gagged on his thick head.
“God, it’s so cute when you choke on it, baby,” he chuckled.  “Do it again.”
This time it was almost too much, but he held your head down and groaned deeply.  It would’ve bothered you more— not being able to breathe— if he didn’t sound so sexy right then…
Thankfully, he pulled you off just in time, making you yelp as he held you by your hair— only to kiss you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.  Moaning, you melted into his arms, and let him guide you to straddle his lap.  Feeling his jeans against your thighs and his shirt against your chest made your heart skip.
He took another long look at you when he broke away, a new darkness in his bright eyes.
“You’re so sexy,” he laughed softly, running his hands over your nude form and raising a brow as he watched goosebumps break out over your skin.  “God, I need to be inside you…”
You bit down on your lip but it didn’t do much to suppress your whimper; lifting yourself up a bit, you grasped his cock and slid it through your folds, guiding him to your entrance.  
You both gasped when he slipped inside, even when it was the slightest penetration— his whole head wasn’t in yet, and you just knew it would stretch you more than you were used to.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned loudly, tilting his head back, “you’re so wet, sweetheart…”
Lowering yourself, you took in a shaky breath, whining slightly as he opened you up one inch at a time... and each one seemed somehow thicker than the last. His fingers seemed to dig deeper into the skin at your hips and ass the lower that you sank onto him.
You could barely believe that you took it all; that you relaxed into his lap fully even when you feared being split in half by how thick he was.  “Oh my god,” you blurted out, operating on instinct as you started to move— grinding back and forth, desperate for friction despite having been satisfied by his incredible mouth just a few minutes ago.
"Fuck, there you go," he encouraged with a growl, looking down at your hips rocking in his lap. "Ride me, just like that— fuck, ride my cock, little fuckin' whore..."
You whimpered at the insult, holding tighter onto his shoulders, but it only made you move faster. "S-so... so deep, Mr. Murphy," you whimpered.
"Yeah? You can take it," he promised darkly, holding tighter onto your waist as he dropped his head back with a low groan. "God, you're tight— fuck."
You gasped as he bucked his hips up, creating more pressure against your over-sensitive clit. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, struggling to cope with all the sensations he was giving you.
Both of you settled on the right pace, and he switched between resting his head back against the couch (giving you a nice view of his gorgeous neck, how could just a neck be so sexy?!) and looking down to watch you go.  “So fuckin’ cute,” he praised— though you were sort of surprised to hear him describe you that way at a time like this.  “So needy, honey… you want more, don’t you?  You wanna go even faster.”
Now that he said it: yeah, you did.  You bounced up and down, your moans coming out all shaky and uneven because of the movement, and he grinned proudly.
His hands wandered up from your waist to your chest, groping you eagerly as you gasped out his name in response.  “Love these tits of yours,” he informed you, sounding oddly sweet for how dirty of a compliment it was.  “Took everything in me not to stare at them when you’d come over for dinner… see what you do to me, sweetheart?  Haven’t felt this desperate since I was your age.”
Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, reminding you of how much older he was at a time like this.  He purred when he felt you clench on him, obviously affected by the comment.
“Should’ve known you’d give in right away,” he went on, softening his voice to nearly a whisper as he watched you move with heavy eyes; you angled your hips back and moaned louder, his cock rubbing against just the right spot every time now.  “Hungry little thing like you— now I wish I hadn’t waited so long.  We could’ve been doing this the whole time… I could’ve shown you how much better it can be, when somebody really takes care of you.”
Whimpering, you felt another heady pang inside you— if he kept talking like that, you wouldn’t be able to keep your head on straight… then again, the fact that you were here proved that you were less stable than you thought.
“Faster, sweetheart,” he ordered again suddenly.  “I wanna see how desperate you can get.”
You furrowed your brows together, almost pouting, but did exactly what he wanted— you wondered if you looked as pathetic as you sounded, riding him recklessly, chasing another peak even when it took all of your strength in those shaking legs.
He grabbed you by the jaw and guided you into another desperate kiss— all teeth and tongue and low moans.  “Good fucking girl,” he snarled.  “Good little slut.”
“Fuck,” you panted, moving faster.  “Fuck, I’m close—”
“I know, honey,” he cooed, nodding as he moved his hand down to your neck.  “Show me how bad you need it, sweetheart.  Let me see it, I wanna see you come for me.”
Tossing your head back, you cried out his name again— why did you always do that when you came?— and felt it overtake you.  It was even heavier than the last one, even more numbing and draining, and you didn’t even notice how hard you were digging your nails into his shoulders.
When your body failed and you came to a shaky stop, he didn’t give you much time to catch your breath: he grabbed you tight, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder, and began to buck his hips up into you quickly.
“Oh my god, oh my god!” you whined, overwhelmed by the feeling, holding onto him tightly just to have something to keep you grounded.
“Fuck, m’gonna come inside you,” he warned with a growl.  “Gonna fill you, baby, you’ll be so fuckin’ full of my come—”
You sobbed and buried your face in his neck, starting to cry again for a completely different reason than before.
“Tell me you want it,” he ordered, speaking roughly right against your ear.
“F-fuck, I want it,” you gasped, “I want you to come— fuck— come inside me—”
He choked out a few more swears, he held you tight enough that you started to imagine what his bruises would look like on you tomorrow, and with a low groan of your name, it all suddenly slowed to a stop.  You moaned weakly when you felt his cock flexing against your walls, even more heat pooling inside you.  With what little energy you had left, you softly kissed his neck— until he seemed to come back to reality and pushed you back enough to be face-to-face with you again.  
You realised suddenly that you were still sort of crying from the intensity of it all, and got nervous with him staring at you like that.  “I’m sorry,” you sniffled as you wiped your face.
“Don’t apologise,” he told you again, moving your hands away so he could look at you himself.  “Besides, you look even cuter when you cry.”
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avatar-anna · 5 months ago
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i saw this trend on tiktok where girlfriends flash their boyfriends to win an argument, and i thought that was genius, so...yeah! that's what this is. enjoyxx
"Baby, we've talked about this."
"I know, but I just think if you listened—"
"I have listened, and I just don't think now is the time to do this."
You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend, annoyed by both his tone and his words. "It'll never be the right time. You just don't want to commit to this relationship."
"Seriously? That's where we're going with this?" Harry asked, finally looking away from where he was chopping vegetables for dinner. "I say it's not the right time to get a dog and you think it's because I'm not committed? Really, Y/n."
He looked down pointedly at himself. Harry stood in the kitchen in an apron that said, Kiss the Cook! You got it for him as a gag gift on his birthday last year since he was always in the kitchen, but he ended up loving it. Naturally, he also demanded you kissed the cook whenever you helped him out with cooking.
You knew what he was trying to say without voicing it, that was committed to you no matter which way you tried to spin it to win the argument. And you knew that, you were just a little annoyed that you and Harry couldn't get on the same page like you normally were.
You and Harry continued to bicker back and forth about the pros and cons of getting a dog together. Harry insisted he wasn't against it, just not now, but you'd done too much research and you knew now was the time, or you would never get around to it.
"You always do this," you said.
"Do what?"
"Try and table a conversation only to never come back to it. Just have a backbone and say you don't want a dog instead of hiding and avoiding it."
Rolling his eyes Harry ran a tired hand over his face. "You know what? Fine, you're right. I don't want a dog."
"But why?"
"Y/n, we travel all the time. We can't train a puppy when we're—"
Harry paused, his eyes finally opening after removing his hand from his face, his eyes settled on you, a mix of emotions quickly running across his face.
"When we're what?" you asked innocently, trying not to smile.
Still not answering, your boyfriend opened and closed his mouth as if his brain was short-circuiting. "You—You just—That's cheating."
"What do you mean?" you said, no longer trying to hide your smirk as Harry stepped closer to you, his eyes not meeting yours at all. They were focused solely on your chest, where you'd conveniently lifted your shirt to expose your breasts.
Coming out of his stupor but still not meeting your gaze, he said, "You don't get to—to use your tits against me!"
"Why, is it working?"
Harry shook his head in utter disbelief, his eyes almost completely glazed over. Whether he liked it or not, you won this round.
"Yes—No—I mean...What were we arguing about again?"
Chuckling softly, you cupped his cheek with your hand. "We were deciding on whether or not we should get a dog."
"Oh. Right. Whatever you want, baby."
"Really?"
You thought this would soften your boyfriend, push him in the right direction, but you didn't think he'd cave so quickly. Harry was already leading you toward the stairs, clearly ready to leave the argument behind.
"Course. Come convince me some more upstairs."
*.*
"Seriously? You're still on that stupid thing?"
Harry barely glanced your way before looking back at the TV, his thumbs moving furiously over his game controller. He mumbled his greeting, too engrossed in his game to acknowledge your presence.
Your boyfriend wasn't typically the video game type, only ever using his gaming console occasionally. That was until a few weeks ago when one of his friends got him hooked on some new game and now he played it nonstop. You didn't really care if Harry played video games, but this had become a fixation. It had been ages since you and him went to bed together at the same time, or gone on a date,, or had sex.
You'd been thoroughly replaced by some game.
"H, have you even gotten up from the couch since I left?"
The response Harry gave you was abysmal, only sparking your irritation more. You'd left him in that exact position hours ago to run errands, and he was still there. You doubt he'd so much as gotten up to eat since you'd been gone.
"Are you even listening to me?"
"That sounds great, baby," Harry said, his eyes still glued to his game.
You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend. "I will not be second to a video game," you muttered before inching closer to the TV. With a sigh, you reached for the bottom of your shirt and lifted it up, taking the bralette you wore with you.
Harry didn't notice at first, which was really going to piss you off, but his eyes snagged on your naked chest as he switched positions on the couch. His whole body stilled as he took you in, his rapidly moving thumbs coming to a halt on his controller.
"Are you done playing now?" you asked, your brows raising expectantly.
Not looking at his game once, Harry tossed the controller on the couch and stood up. As if in a trance, he walked toward you. As he got closer, you could hear shouts of protests from his friends coming from the headset still on his head. He took that off too, then lifted you up without warning. You quickly wrapped your legs around his waist as he led you to your bedroom. And when he laid you down on the bed, you grinned, satisfied that your boyfriend was still wrapped around your finger.
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lanadelnegan · 1 year ago
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My Girl
S7!Negan x Reader
Requested from anon: hey! loving the blog and every story you post! i was wondering if you’d do a story of a reader’s first time being with S7 Negan who is an asshole at first but then goes soft because he accidentally made her cry??
OOOH I'm gonna have some FUN with this one. And thank you so much <3.
Summary: Rick's oldest daughter, y/n, loses her virginity to Negan.
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, virgin first time, vaginal sex, daddy-kink, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 40), Rick walks in on Negan eating you out.. (twice), degrading language, mushy romantic Negan, Negan fucks you in nothing but his leather jacket
A/N: This is my favorite fic I have written by far and I hope you love it as much as I do cuz I am obsessed.
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"Carl, take your sisters upstairs and don't come down until I say it's safe." I lift Judith out of her high chair and follow Carl up the stairs.
Our dad has always treated us like Carl's the older one, even though he's two years younger than me, but I don't mind. If anything, it takes some of the pressure off of being big sis all the time.
I hear Negan's voice booming in the distance as my dad opens the door to head back outside. This has become part of our weekly routine at this point. Negan and his men went from monthly visits to weekly visits over the past couple months, but I don't mind that either.
The more I get to see him, the merrier.
I move the bedroom curtains slightly, peeking through my window until my eyes find Negan standing in the street in front of our house. I'm able to make out what they're saying if I listen closely enough.
"Rickyyy, I missed ya. Where's that sweet daughter of yours hiding? .....The older one of course." I can't stop the grin that appears on my face when he asks about me.
"This isn't about her. Get what you need, and leave." My dad stands firmly planted with his hands on his hips and my eyes roll at his attitude. Maybe if my dad would just be civil with Negan all of this could stop. I revert my gaze back to Negan.
"Now, Prick, you know I can't leave without seeing my girl."
His girl... The butterflies in my stomach flutter at the sound of that.
"Why are you so obsessed with him?" Carl asks rudely from across the room while holding Judith and bouncing her so she doesn't cry.
I quickly glare at Carl before turning my gaze back towards the window. When I look back down, Negan is looking up at me, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. I can't look away, and he lets his gaze linger a little too long as well, prompting my dad to look at my window. I quickly drop the curtain and back away.
"Take Judith to her room and put her down for her nap." I instruct Carl. He stares at me suspiciously. "Go! What did I just say?" I snap impatiently. He shakes his head but ultimately leaves.
"You're always so weird when he comes around." He says under his breath. I close my door behind them and go back to the window, peeking again, but this time everyone's gone. I rush to go see what's going on, but as soon as I swing my door open and run out, I crash into a tall, solid figure. My eyes widen as I look up at the man in the leather jacket.
"Hey, doll. Miss me?"
"Uh - I - where's my dad?" I stutter nervously, peaking around him.
"Busy getting supplies for me. He'll be busy for the next hour, so I thought I'd come keep you company."
Negan's been visiting Alexandria for months now, and each time he comes, our talks get longer and flirtier. Well, he flirts with me and I pretend to be annoyed, mostly so others don't think I like him. If they only knew how much I think about his beard between my legs.
There's something about him that intrigues me.. fascinates me even. I'm ashamed to admit I've even touched myself a couple times - okay, a lot of times - to the thought of him.
When I don't respond, he backs us into my bedroom, shutting the door behind him.
He slides his shoes and jacket off, sitting on my bed and leaning back with his feet propped up. I blush at the sight of him in my bed and restrain myself from ripping my clothes off here and now. A chill runs through my body, making me noticeably shake but I try to play it off. He probably things I'm scared, when in reality I just want him.
"Relax, I'd never hurt you darlin'. Unless you want me to." He winks as he leans back against the headboard getting more comfortable.
"I know." And I do... for some reason, I know he wouldn't hurt me.
He bites his bottom lip playfully and raises his eyebrows while patting the bed next to him.
I nervously walk over and sit down before leaning back, mimicking his position. My bed is a twin, so it doesn't allow much room to ourselves. My shoulder is pressed against his and the simple act has my body on fire already. I glance over and let my eyes roam up his white t-shirt to his handsome face. He watches me with amusement while his leg presses against mine teasingly.
"Sweetheart, I've been around the block long enough to know when a girl wants my dick. And I can practically hear that pussy fucking purring every time I come near you." He grins at me like he knows all my secrets.
My face burns with embarrassment at his words.
"I bet I could make you blush even harder than that, doll." His grin stretches wider but I stay silent, letting him do the talking.
"Of course.. I wouldn't do anything you're not comfortable wi-"
Before he can finish, I press my lips to his hard and climb on top of him. His mouth parts, letting my tongue in and his subtle moan makes my pussy flutter. He tastes like whiskey and smells like leather and I feel high off the taste of him as we kiss passionately. I grind my hips desperately into him and feel his bulge grow underneath me.
"Negan... I need you."
"I know baby." He breathes out.
My hands fumble with his belt and pants until I get them undone. He watches me as I pull out his cock and my pussy is already sore from just looking at it. No way it's gonna fit.
"How do you want it, baby? You gonna be a big girl and ride daddy?" His hands squeeze my ass underneath my dress and he practically growls when he realizes I'm not wearing panties.
"It's like you knew I was coming. Such a bad little girl." His fingers tease my opening and I'm embarrassed that I'm already pathetically soaked for him.
"All for me?" He slides a finger through my slit and brings it up to his mouth for a taste. "So fucking sweet."
I slide myself against his cock that's now slippery with my wetness and wonder how I'm gonna fit that thing inside me.
The big dick energy definitely checks out.
I hover above him naively, thinking I can actually take him. The tip just barely pushes through my opening and I moan at the sudden pressure. His hands grip my ass, guiding me down over him.
"Come on baby, that's it." He praises me as I keep sliding down. I stop when I can't take anymore, realizing I have at least four more inches to go.
"Oh, I know my little slut can take more than that."
I shake my head. "Negan, I don't think I -"
"You can, and you will, doll. I didn't come all the way here for you to only take half of my dick."
Tears fill my eyes as I try to sit all the way on him, wanting to make him proud. I make it another inch before the pain is too much. Not only with how deep he is, but he's so wide I think he may actually be ripping me apart.
"Deeper, y/n." He demands.
When I try again and fail, I quickly climb off of him frustrated. "I can't Negan, I'm trying!" He sits up in the bed, his feet on the floor now.
"Bend over."
"W-what?"
"Do not make me ask again." His jaw clenches as he stares at me seriously.
I lay myself over him, my ass facing upwards on his lap.
"You're going to take all of me, baby. If my wives at home can take me, I expect nothing less from you."
He doesn't even give me a warning before bringing his hand down painfully on my ass making me yelp. He chuckles darkly before smacking me again. He rubs the sensitive spot before teasing both of my holes.. One with his thumb and the other with his middle finger.
"What would daddy say if he could see you right now? Bent over my fucking lap and dripping for me like a little whore..." He pushes his thumb and finger deep inside each of my openings and I bite my lip hard at the pain.
I know he's trying to be all dominant right now.. I'm not oblivious to how rough sex works, but my eyes still sting with tears at his crude words. I shouldn't have built my hopes up that Negan could actually care and be gentle with me.
I sniffle as the tears fall, trying to wipe the snot dripping from my nose.
He quickly pulls me up and his eyes are filled with concern.
"Baby? Hey, look at me." He cups my face gently as I sit on the bed next to him.
"I - I liked you." I choke out. "I was the only one here who actually cared about you and saw you as a person.. and you.. you just see me as a stupid object you can shove your dick in.... You just ruined my first experience with a man. I hope you're happy." I sob while looks like someone just punched him in the gut.
"Fuck, sweetheart." He presses his forehead to mine, looking down with regret. "I didn't know you were all mushy about me and shit.. Truth is?" He tilts my chin to look at him. "I was being so harsh with you cause I didn't want to admit my own feelings. I didn't think you'd ever want an asshole like me, so I didn't want to go catching feelings for someone who didn't want me back. But baby? I can't get you outta my fucking head... Why do you think I started visiting every week?"
My teary eyes look up at him and he looks genuine. I want to trust him so badly, but my heart and head are saying two different things.
"Fuck, y/n. I know you don't believe me. Let me prove it to you. What can I do? Just say the fucking word."
"Stop taking our stuff... Leave our people alone..."
He chuckles lightly, shaking his head like he can't believe what he's about to agree to. "Does that include you?"
I try to hide my grin as I wipe my tears with the back of my hand. "....No."
"Then it's a deal, baby."
"That's it? Just like that?" I look at him confused.
He shrugs. "Guess you've got me wrapped around your finger already, darlin...And now that I know you've never been with a man, I'm taking my fucking time with you." He lays me down on the bed while kissing and climbing over me.
"What about my dad? He'll be back soon."
"Simon's keeping watch, doll."
His lips travel to my neck. "....What about your other wives? You're just gonna fuck me and go back to them?"
He laughs against my neck. "Sweetheart.. I kicked every one of them to the curb the day I layed eyes on you."
My mouth drops open but he cuts me off by pulling my dress down over my chest and taking a nipple into his mouth. I moan and arch myself into him. After a few moments of sucking each one, he slides down further, lifting my dress to my waist and settling his head between my legs. I watch him in awe as he takes his time, kissing my inner thighs.
"Has anyone ever eaten you, baby?"
I shake my head no as I lean up on my elbows to watch him.
"Good." He spreads my pussy lips apart with his fingers and I blush at him staring at it. "Such a pretty pussy. Fuck." He says before locking eyes with me and pressing a kiss to my clit gently. I moan from the contact and arch myself into him, silently begging for more.
He dips his tongue in me and curls it up, gathering my juices. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans and licks all the way up to my clit before sucking on it softly. My mouth drops open and my hips try to jerk away, being overwhelmed by sensitivity.
He smiles against me. "Not going anywhere until you cum all over my face, doll." He wraps his arms up around my thighs, pressing my stomach down with his hands.
My breathing matches the speed of his licking and sucking and I feel the pressure building up inside me.
"Fuck, Negan!" My eyes are clenched shut but snap open when my door suddenly flies open.
"Shit! Dad!" I reach to throw my blanket over me, but defeatedly realize it's on the floor. My eyes widen in horror at my father standing in the doorway, looking like he just saw a ghost. A ghost that's eating his daughter's pussy. I'm unable to close my legs because Negan is still holding me down with his hands.
"God fucking dammit, Rick. We were just ge-"
"Negan!" I cut him off, my cheeks turning bright red with embarrassment.
He kisses my pussy one more time and my eyes widen, not believing he just did that in front of my father. He finally leans up, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and smirking at my dad like he's proud of himself.
I quickly get up and fix my dress.
"Dad, look, I -" I look up, stopping at the sight of Carl pointing a gun directly at Negan's head.
Negan tucks himself back into his jeans, buckling his belt and ignoring Carl.
"Carl.." I slowly step in front of Negan. "Put the gun down."
"You - you wanted this? Him?" My dad asks horrified. "He's done horrible things, y/n."
"And you haven't?!" I yell at my dad. "I watched you rip a man's neck open with your goddamn teeth. If he's a monster.. then so are you."
Negan steps beside me and laces his fingers through mine before kissing the side of my head.
"I love him, dad." I look up at Negan and elbow him roughly when I see a teasing smirk on his face.
"And you think he loves you? You can't be that stupid." My dad says, putting emphasis on the last word.
Negan chuckles and finally cuts in. "First of all, Dick, do not call my woman stupid. Secondly.." His faces grows serious. "We won't be taking anymore of your things. No more visits. Other than me paying this one a visit of course." Negan winks and puts his his arm around me protectively. "That is.. until she moves in with me." Our eyes all widen at the same time.
"You want me to live with you?" I turn to Negan.
"I mean, you did just confess your love for me, doll. Soo, yeah, that's the plan." He kisses my forehead.
"Y/n, we'll talk about this later. Negan, you need to leave. Now." My dad demands, his jaw ticking with anger.
Negan glares at my dad for a moment before turning to me, lifting my chin to kiss him slowly and passionately. Before he lets go, he whispers in my ear. "Meet me right outside the walls when it gets dark. I am nowhere near done with you, baby."
My heart flutters at the thought of us sneaking out together.
Negan walks towards the door before leaning close to my dad's ear. "I get to be her first, Rick. How fucking sweet is that." I struggle to make out his words but don't miss the chuckle at the end. He pats Carl's shoulder on his way out. "See ya 'round, bro."
"Love you, sweetheart!" He calls out to me as my dad and brother follow behind him, making sure he leaves.
I shut my door and smile giddily, running to the window and peeking out. Negan is already looking up at the window when I look at him. He smirks and winks at me before heading off to the gates.
A few hours later:
The sun just went down and my palms are starting to sweat as I pace back and forth on the outskirts of the gates. A million thoughts race through my head.
What if he doesn't come..
What if it's a trap..
What if he lied about everything he said..
Oh my god.. He's gonna kidnap and torture me..
Shut up. He wouldn't do that.
This is a bad idea. What am I doing.
Just as I turn to run back inside the walls, I see him appear from the shadows, wearing his signature leather jacket with a black t-shirt underneath.
"Were you about to ditch me, y/n?" He asks playfully as he pulls my wrist towards him and crashes his lips into mine. When the kiss deepens, he bends a little, pulling me up by the back of my thighs and wrapping my legs around his waist. We make out like horny teenagers while my fingers run through his slick black hair.
"You ready to officially be mine, doll?"
I nod without hesitation. "Yes. I'm already yours, Negan. I don't care what anyone thinks about us."
He kisses me again, setting me back down on the ground. "Lead the way, baby." He nods towards the side gates.
"You want to go back to my house? What if someone sees you?!"
"Kinda hope they do.. I like the thought of everyone knowing who you belong to." He smirks and it makes me knees weak.
"Okay.. come on." I pull his hand as I guide him back to my house. We sneak through the back sliding doors as carefully as possible before tiptoeing up the stairs.
He lightly smacks my ass as we're going up and I turn to shush him, tripping over my own feet in the process. He catches me before I make a loud thud on the stairs and his body is leaned over mine as we try not to laugh.
My body shakes as I laugh silently and bring my hand over my mouth quickly to stop any sound that comes out. His eyebrows raise at me with warning as if I better not make a noise.
"Okay, okay. Shushhh." I whisper before beginning our climb up the stairs again. My dad's room is at the end of the hall and mine is adjacent next to his. We try not to let the floors creak as we get closer to my room. We slip inside and I ease the door shut gently. When it finally clicks shut. I let go of a deep breath and look up at Negan. As soon as our eyes lock, we laugh like idiots, but quiet idiots.
He walks towards me. "Goddamn it, I fucking love you." He says as he lifts me back into his arms kissing me.
"You know.. earlier outside.." I breathe out between our kisses. "I thought.. that maybe you were gonna kidnap and torture me."
He smiles against my mouth as our lips lazily fight each other. "...What if I am?"
I stop kissing him to look at him. When I do, his look turns serious and it scares me for a moment. "I fully plan on making you mine and torturing you with this dick forever, doll."
I grin and roll my eyes as he continues holding me in his arms. "I guess there are worse ways to get tortured."
"Wait until I'm all the way inside you." His eyebrows raise teasingly.
I press my forehead to his and bring my hands to cup his face, kissing him again. I can't take my lips off of him. "Well what are you waiting for?"
That's all he needs to hear before he's walking me towards the bed and laying me down gently. He stands back up, removing his jacket and shirt.
I watch him closely, admiring the flex of his biceps when he moves. "Put the jacket back on. No shirt."
He laughs until he sees that I'm serious.
"Yes ma'am." He says with his little country accent. It's not always noticeable, but when it is.. it's so fucking adorable.
Once he's back in the jacket and bare chested, he stops for a moment before removing his pants. "Can I take these off, at least?"
"No, I want to."
He grin stretches as he walks towards the bed, keeping his hands by his sides. "All yours, baby."
I sit up in the bed in front of him and undo his button and zipper. I shuffle his pants down just a little before pulling his hardening cock out of his boxers. It turns to a steel rod in my hand and I don't care that I'm full on staring at it, assessing each vein and how it turns an ombre shade of pink towards the tip.
"I hope you like what you see, baby. Cause it's the only dick you're gonna be seeing for the rest of your life."
"I'm perfectly happy with that." I look up at him before kissing the tip of him, just like he did to my clit earlier. He watches me proudly, letting his fingers run through my hair lovingly.
I lick my lips before struggling to fit my mouth around him. He chuckles down at me.
“If you can’t fit me in that cunt, what makes you think you can take it down your throat, baby?”
I grin around him and I slide my mouth deeper and deeper. Surprisingly I don’t gag and I think it surprises him too.
Guess I don’t have a gag reflex. That’s good to know.
“Holyyy shit, doll. Look. At. You.” His voice is so deep it vibrates to my pussy. The tip hits the very back on my throat and even further until my eyes water.
I try to jerk my head back, but Negan pushes my head down on him again, my nose pressed into his pubic hair. He waits a few seconds until I feel like I’m going to pass out from lack of oxygen before pulling my head back. I gasp for air and he pulls me all the way off of him while kicking his pants and boxers off.
"Trying to make me blow my load before we even get to the good part, darlin'? He climbs over me in the bed, kissing me softly.
My hands slip underneath his jacket and rub his back, scratching at it gently.
"I am gonna make you feel So fucking good." He says before kissing my neck. "You want me to be gentle with you baby?" His voice right in my ear makes me shiver.
I nod and he hovers his face above mine so we’re staring into each other eyes.
“You ready, baby?” He whispers and I nod again.
He leans up on his knees between me and lines himself up with my entrance before pushing the tip through. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”
He slowly slides in me further and further as he holds my legs open.
“Goddamn this pussy is so fucking Tight.” He pulls back a little before pushing in deeper and my mouth gapes open slightly.
He chuckles and stares down at me through heavy eyelids. "I'm not even halfway yet, sweetheart. You want more?"
I nod desperately as my eyes fill with tears at the overwhelming sensation of him so deep inside me.
"Take it then, doll. Grind on me and make yourself feel good." He stops moving completely while still on his knees between my legs.
My cheeks blush at his request and he smirks down at me, sliding his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, refusing to move or touch me.
I lean up on my elbows while he's still inside me and push my body further into him, taking every inch I possibly can. I grind myself against him until I find just the right spot for the tip of his cock to press into and drop my head back at how good it feels, not caring about the desperate sounds I let out.
"Oh my god, Negan.. fuck." My face reddens at the intense pleasure as I continue using his cock to pleasure myself.
"Fuck, baby. Now THIS? Is a Fucking sight.. Watching you get off on my cock like a desperate little whore."
"Touch me, Negan. Please."
"Please what?"
"Please Negan."
He removes his hands from his jacket to lean over me, holding himself above me with one hand on the bed while bringing the other to lightly grip my throat.
His dark hazel eyes dart back and forth between mine as he squeezes his fingers gently around my neck. My face reddens even more at the sudden loss of air.
"Try again, doll."
"Please... daddy." I choke out and he quickly releases my throat.
"Good girl." He kisses my lips softly before thrusting his hips hard, completely filling me until his balls are flush against me.
I scream out and his hand immediately covers my mouth while his head dips to the side of mine and his deep voice fills my ear once again.
"Sshhh, baby. I know. I know." He pulls out almost completely before sliding in again, this time softer but just as deep.
My eyes fill with tears at the pain but I don't want him to stop. My fingers grip the bottom of his jacket as he continues fucking me hard and at a steady pace. The headboard begins to lightly bump the wall above me and my eyes widen with panic.
"Negan, the bed. My dad's room is right on the other side."
He chuckles lightly in my ear but doesn't speak. Instead, he pounds into me even harder and faster with his head is buried into my neck.
"Negan!" I whisper yell at him but it feels too good to make him stop. The closer my orgasm gets, the less I care about my dad hearing us.
After a few more thrusts, he slows down and suddenly flips us over with his dick still inside me until I'm laying over him.
"Negan, my dad's gonna come in here! We have to be quie-"
Before I finish, he lifts his knees up and rams his cock into me hard. It feels even deeper from this angle and hits a spot that makes me see stars.
"Come here, baby." He maneuvers me until my arms are wrapped around him and my head is nestled into his neck. He smells like musky cologne and sweat and I can't help but lick him. Our mouths are next to each others ears, breathing and moaning heavily as he begins to thrust up into me faster than ever. The headboard slams into the wall with force but I don't even care.
This feeling is unlike anything I've ever felt or knew was possible, so the last thing I'm gonna do is tell him to stop.
"Negan.." I cry out. "Faster."
He obeys and wraps his arms around me tighter, fucking me at an animalistic pace. I cum so hard and fast I don't even have time to announce it. My pussy clenches and I feel myself suddenly leak around him, soaking his dick and probably even the bed below us.
"Goddamn. That's my good fucking girl... You gonna let daddy cum in this pussy, baby?"
"Yes! Please." I whine.
He growls in my ear and holds himself deep and still inside me as his dick pulses over and over.
I try to slide off of him when he's finished, but he holds me tight, not letting me leave.
"Negan, you need to leave before my dad-"
"He's not here, sweetheart."
"What?!" I snap my eyes to his.
"Relax, baby. He's fine. But I did warn him that if he didn't want to hear his baby girl screaming "daddy" all night.. then he should take your siblings and go stay the night with Daryl." He grins up at me and my brows come together with confusion.
"Wait you.. you told him about our plan?"
"Of course baby. Had to be respectful and ask for your old man's blessing."
"And.. and he gave it to you?!"
Negan laughs and reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear. "Absolutely not. But respectfully, I told him he didn't have a choice."
The next morning:
My vagina is screaming at me for allowing it to be destroyed last night. I can't count on one hand how many times Negan made me cum. I open my eyes to the sun shining through my window and immediately notice Negan is gone. I shoot up and look around, seeing that his clothes are also gone.
What if he just.. got what he wanted and left..
I throw the covers off of me and get up, grabbing my sundress of the floor and throwing it on before making my way through the house.
"Carl?!.... Dad?!" I yell as I descend quickly down the stairs. I stop at the bottom to find Negan stirring a pot of something on the stove.
"There she is! Mornin' sunshine." I walk over to Negan to see what he's cooking and he holds a spoon up to my mouth, letting me taste the deliciousness. This man can fuck and cook... what a god.
"Was wonderin when you were gonna wake the hell up. It's already lunch time, baby." He presses his lips to mine and I notice his freshly shaven face. I've never seen him like his and he looks so incredibly handsome.
He lifts me up and sets me on the kitchen counter while standing between my legs.
"Mmm, promise me you'll wear little sundresses with no panties underneath for the rest of our lives, doll." He says as he kisses me sweetly. I giggle and wrap my arms around him, kissing his neck.
"You hungry baby?" He asks and I nod sleepily.
"Me too." He slowly gets down on his knees in front of me, draping my legs over his shoulders.
He softly licks me with his tongue, moaning from the taste before burying his face further into me until I feel his tongue push past my hole. His shaven face feels soft and much more gentle than his beard.
My fingers run through his black hair, tugging on it gently as my head falls back.
"Mmm, daddy." I moan and my eyes snap open, hearing movement at the front door. I quickly jerk Negan up while pulling my dress down and sliding off the counter, seeing my dad, Carl, and Daryl standing in the doorway. Carl quickly covers Judith's eyes while he holds her and Negan sighs annoyedly at the sight of them.
"God..DAMN it, Rick. Again? You gotta learn to fucking knock."
"It's my house." My dad's expression is unreadable as he stands there, eyeing Negan. "You said one night. You can be on your way now."
"Well now don't be fucking rude, Prick. Have a seat." He grins widely at my dad before gesturing to the table. "I made spaghetti."
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The End.
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boypied · 24 days ago
Text
AFTER CLASS.
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pairings: professor!clark kent x male reader
summary: male readers professor is continuously distracted by his choice of clothing, so he decides to see him after class.
requested by: anonymous
warnings: SMUT, age gap, teacher x student, feminization, dirty talk, edging.
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You did it on purpose. You loved how flustered he became when you walked into a room. His glasses practically fogged up the moment you arrived to class, you always made sure to wear the most seductive and slutty outfit known to man. You arrived with knee high socks and a short-short skirt that showed your thong with every step you took, Clark couldn't take his eyes away no matter how hard he tried. He knew he should look at you this way. You practically became a sex symbol to him. You were his student and he was your teacher but he almost didn't even care, he wanted you... he needed you. He had developed an unhealthy obsession with you, and that is exactly what you wanted. He asked you to stay behind after class, and you nibbled at your lip, fantasising about what he could want.
After everyone leaves the class you make your way over to his desk, you lean onto the desk giving him fuck me eyes. "So.." He mumbles out nervously as he clears his throat "You can't keep wearing clothes like that y/n. It's distracting." Clark mumbles out avoiding eye contact with you, "You don't like what I wear sir?" you say seductively as you make your way round the desk to get to him. He clears his throat and manages to finally make eye contact with you, "your clothing is just very distracting." Clark repeats himself as he sits down in his seat trying to ignore what you're currently wearing, "is this distracting?" You lean down to whisper in his ear as you bend over in front of him revealing your pink thong to him.
"You like that sir?" You say seductively as you begin to bounce your ass up and down letting him watch the jiggle, he leans down slightly in awe feeling his suit trousers becoming tighter as he grows harder and harder watching you put on the little show for him. He rubs his eyes "no, no! We can't do this" he mumbles out. You bend back up and straddle his lap, his hands immediately hovering over your hips and then gently pulling up your skirt revealing your bare ass cheeks with the thin pink string of the thong perfectly hiding your hole. "f-fuck" Clark nervously moans out as he caresses circles over your cheeks, "I know you want to fuck me professor...do it" you whisper.
You climb off his lap and begin unbuttoning his shirt, peice by peice a section of his body is revealed until his entire torso is revealed to you, you run your hands down his hairy chest. "W-Wow" you mumble out in shock feeling his hard body, your hands travel down to his trousers pulling off the belt and practically ripping off his trousers and pants. "WOW!" You gasp out as his cock practically hits you in the face, the size of his cock was almost unearthly. You bite your lip as you climb back onto his lap and line up his cock with your hole as you slide down onto it. Inch by inch a peice of his cock corrupts your hole, he wraps his arms around your waist as his hands grip onto your ass cheeks.
"Takin' me so well," he groans out in your ear as he passionately kisses you, your tongues sliding against each other as he begins to buck his hips up into you, "f-faster" You moan out as he hits your sweet spot. You bounce faster and faster until he takes over and dominates your hole by bucking his hips up. Clark's abs flex as he comes closer and closer with each buck of his hips into his students' hole, "s-so tight. You keep squeezing me" he moans out before his cock begins spurting his seed into your hole, you continue bouncing on his thick cock through his orgasm. "A-AH" he whimpers out as you ride him harder in his chair.
You reach your breaking point when you shoot your load all over his abs as he continuously hits your sweet spot. You collapse down onto his chest, and he rubs your back softly, "Why don't you come back to mine tonight?" He whispers into your ear, "mhm" you answer softly as his cock becomes flaccid and slips out of your cum filled hole.
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taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter
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crimsntwlip · 9 months ago
Text
it’s you | theodore nott.
pairing: theodore nott x reader
warnings: friends to lovers, reader avoiding theodore, reader status not mentioned, fluff fluff fluff !! kissing, google translated italian
summary: based on this request!
a/n: thank you so much for requesting!! i hope you enjoy this & happy valentines day lovelies!!!
| posted: 2/13/24 | masterlist |
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y/n and theodore had always been two peas in a pod, ever since they first met on the hogwarts express during their first year. even when they were separated by the sorting hat, theodore being sorted into slytherin while y/n had been sorted into ravenclaw, they both knew they would stick together over the years.
y/n was currently sitting in divination class, your mind distracted as professor trelawney rambled on about interpreting signs and symbols from tea leaves.
it was a week prior to valentine’s day and you still haven’t been asked to be anyone’s valentines. you tried to not let it get into your head, but with everyone else around you getting mingled up, you couldn’t help but yearn to get asked. although there was a rumor going around that theodore had already asked another girl, you hoped it was untrue.
theodore, who was seated next to you, noticed your distracted figure and gently nudged you out of your thoughts. you wiped away your thoughts as you turned to face theodore, who appeared concerned.
you turned away, facing back to the professor as you were ready to brush it off when he leaned closer to your level. he whispered,
“are you okay, bella?”
y/n couldnt help but blush suddenly from how close he had gotten. you cleared your throat, trying to push the blush away, theodore's concern softened into a gentle smile.
“i’m fine, theo,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to draw attention to yourselves in the quiet classroom. theodore's eyes searched yours, seeing the slight unease lingering behind them. he knew you well enough to sense when something was bothering you, even if you tried to hide it.
theodore nodded slightly, respecting your boundaries yet still keeping a watchful eye on you in hopes he would get something out of you at the end of class.
once class came to an end, you quickly pack your things away. you had plans to meet luna in the library for some studying. theodore stood by, watching you pack before he spoke.
“y/n, you know you can talk to me ri-”
“yeah thanks theo, sorry i have to go meet luna.” you quickly shut him down, hurriedly walking out. leaving theodore with a disappointing expression behind as he watch you go.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
when you arrived at the library, luna was already waiting for you at your usual table, perusing through a dusty old book with her signature dreamy expression. as she looked up and noticed your arrival, a smile lit up her face. once you settled in and began to study, luna noticed the distant look on your face and raised an eyebrow in question.
“y/n! what's on your mind? you seem a bit distracted today,” luna asked softly, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.
you sighed, feeling the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. “i just can't shake off this feeling of unease, luna. It's silly, really.” you paused. luna's expression turned sympathetic as she listened intently, offering you a comforting smile.
you continued, “its just.. valentine's day approaching and... well, nothing special planned,” you admitted, feeling a bit vulnerable opening up about your feelings.
as you were talking about your feelings about the upcoming holiday, theodore was making his way towards the library, in hopes he would run into you. as he entered the library he passed through the tall shelves, pausing as he heard your voice.
“and it’s not like i don’t want to get asked- don’t get me wrong but i was just hoping theodore would’ve asked me?”
theodore's heart skipped a beat as he heard his name mentioned by you. he had been hesitant to ask you to be his valentine, unsure if you felt the same way about him. but now, hearing your words filled him with a surge of hope and courage. he quickly grabbed a random book off the shelf, leaning to get a closer listen but still trying to stay hidden.
“i dont know luna-“ you groaned before continuing. “i mean bloody hell its been 6 whole years of this unrequited love! now i feel a bit silly.. and there are rumors going around about how theodore has already asked another girl. maybe i should give up..”
“you shouldn’t feel silly for loving someone,” luna spoke softly, comforting her friend. “plus rumors are just rumors y/n, they might not even be true.” luna offered you a gentle smile before silence hit the air again. not awkward silence but instead comforting silence, you were grateful you had a friend like luna.
theodore's heart skipped a beat once again. how could he have been so blind? as silence filled the air once more, he had forgotten he was even hiding until a second-year student bumped into him, causing him to drop the book he was holding and revealing his hidden spot.
as the sudden sound caught your attention, your head snapped up and you found yourself locking eyes with theo, who appeared startled like a deer caught in headlights
“hello..” theodore breathed out, feeling embarrassed that he was caught. you stood up quickly, “theo! how long have you been there?!”
theodore stood there, sheepish and unsure of how to respond. he sheepishly scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with an excuse. “uh, not long, i just arrived...” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze.
you felt embarrassed. you knew theodore had heard everything. you gulped, hastily gathered your belongings, apologizing to luna, and made your excuses before rushing out of the library. leaving theodore behind once again, watching you go.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
it has been days since the events occurred, and you still cannot bring yourself to face theodore. despite his efforts to talk about what happened, you have been avoiding him, afraid that you may have hurt your relationship.
theodore noticed your attempt at avoiding him. whenever you would see him come around the corner, you would always turn the other direction. if he approached you, you would suddenly remember something urgent you needed to take care of.
theodore couldn't bear the distance that had now grown between the two of you. he missed your company, your laughter, and the comforting bond that you both once had. it pained him to see you avoiding him.
on the day prior to valentines day, you were walking through the hogwarts corridors, trying your best to avoid theodore yet again. he finally caught up to you, his voice was gentle and laced with concern as he called out to you, “y/n, please... can we talk?”
you stopped in your tracks, reluctant but unable to ignore the pleading tone in his voice. you turned to face him, and in that moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the hurt that mirrored your own. taking a deep breath, you finally nodded, signaling your willingness to listen.
theodore took a step closer, his gaze searching yours for any sign of forgiveness or understanding. “i... i heard what you said in the library,” he began, his voice soft yet filled with emotion.
you interrupted him abruptly, assuming he would turn you down. “yes theo, i love you okay!” you said frustratedly, a faint blush crept up on theodores cheeks as you confessed. but before he could respond, you quickly added, "but I understand if it's not something you're interested in. i value our friendship too much to risk i-” cutting you off, he reached out, gently cupping your cheeks as he brought you into a kiss.
as you felt his warm lips pressing against yours, a rush of emotions flooded through you. the shock faded away as you kissed him back, melting into it.
when you finally pulled back, your eyes met theodore's, and you saw relief in his gaze.
“y/n,” theodore whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and warmth. he reached out to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin affectionately. “you've always been something more to me,” he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. “and i want you to know that those rumors about me asking someone else were completely false. it was always you, y/n. it has always been you.”
as theodore's words sank in, you could feel your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and disbelief. you had never anticipated that he felt this way about you, and now that he had laid his feelings bare, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness.
he continued, “and i've been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but i was afraid of ruining what we have. but if you're willing to take a chance on me, i’d love nothing more than for you to be mine.”
tears glistened in your eyes as you reached up to hold his hand against your cheek, savoring the warmth of his touch. “theodore,” you whispered, your voice filled with raw emotion, “i never thought you saw me the same way.”
a smile tugged at theodore's lips as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i've been blind not to see it sooner,” he confessed, his gaze intense and unwavering. “i don't want to waste any more time pretending that we're just friends when we could be so much more.”
with a surge of courage, you closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his in a tender kiss once again.
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vroom--vrooming · 3 months ago
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Charles Leclerc x Norris!Reader
Charles has a huge crush on Lando's sister and has been meaning to talk to her, but Lando might have misunderstood the situation
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The paddock is buzzing with activity, and as you walk alongside your brother, Lando Norris, you can't help but notice the excited energy that always fills the air on race weekends. Lando is chatting animatedly about his qualifying session, but you’re only half-listening, your attention drifting as you scan the familiar faces around you.
And then you spot him—Charles Leclerc. He’s standing a few meters away, his usually composed demeanor slipping as he spots you in the crowd. His eyes widen slightly, and he seems to freeze for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights. You can’t help but smile to yourself. You’ve noticed him acting a little strange around you lately, like he’s always trying to catch your eye or find excuses to talk to you. It’s endearing, really.
Lando, oblivious to the fact that Charles’ gaze is glued to you, keeps rambling on until he finally notices Charles staring in your direction. A strange look crosses Lando’s face, a mix of confusion and something almost like… concern?
“Uh, what’s up with Charles?” Lando mutters, more to himself than to you. Before you can respond, Charles starts walking over, a determined look on his face as if he’s made up his mind about something.
“Oh no,” Lando breathes out, eyes widening in horror. “I think—oh God, I think he’s into me.”
You blink at your brother, completely caught off guard. “What?”
“I’ve been noticing it for a while now!” Lando hisses, pulling you slightly behind a stack of tires like you’re on some kind of secret mission. “He’s always around, and he keeps looking at me like—like that!” Lando points an accusing finger at Charles, who is now even closer and definitely looking more at you than your brother.
You bite back a laugh, starting to piece together what’s really going on, but Lando is too busy panicking to notice.
“He’s coming over!” Lando whispers frantically. “Quick, distract him while I hide!”
Before you can say anything, Lando ducks behind a conveniently placed stack of equipment, leaving you standing there, facing a rapidly approaching Charles. You barely have time to process Lando’s escape before Charles is right in front of you, looking slightly out of breath and adorably flustered.
“Hi!” he says, a little too eagerly, and then immediately winces as if mentally kicking himself. “I mean, hey. How are you?”
You smile up at him, noting the way his eyes keep flickering around as if he’s looking for something—or someone. “I’m good, Charles. How are you?”
“I’m great, yeah, really great,” he stammers, running a hand through his hair in that nervous way you’ve come to recognize. He seems to relax a little now that he’s actually talking to you. “So, uh, where’s Lando?”
You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Lando, who is currently crouched behind a set of tires, peeks out ever so slightly, his eyes wide with terror as he watches the exchange.
“Oh, Lando?” you say, pretending to look around. “I think he’s, uh, busy. But I’m here. You can talk to me.”
Charles brightens at that, his focus shifting entirely to you. “Really? I mean, yeah, of course! I’d love to talk to you. Actually, I’ve been meaning to—”
“Pssst!” comes a desperate hiss from behind the tires. Charles frowns in confusion, glancing around, and you quickly step closer to him, blocking his view of your brother’s less-than-stealthy hiding spot.
“So, Charles,” you interrupt, your voice a little louder than necessary, “what were you saying?”
Charles’ attention snaps back to you, and for a moment, he looks like he might faint from sheer joy. “Right, yes! I was saying that, um, I’ve been meaning to ask you—”
Suddenly, there’s a loud clatter as Lando, in his attempt to shift to a better hiding position, accidentally knocks over a metal tool cart. You wince, and Charles’ head whips around toward the sound, eyes narrowing in confusion.
“Is Lando… hiding?” Charles asks, genuinely puzzled.
You can’t hold back your laughter anymore, and it spills out before you can stop it. “He thinks you’re into him,” you manage to say between giggles.
Charles’ eyes widen in shock, his face turning bright red. “What? No! I—no, I’m not—I mean—” He stumbles over his words, looking like he might just run off in embarrassment. “I’m not interested in Lando. Not at all!”
Lando, who has now completely given up on hiding and is standing there with a sheepish grin, looks relieved but also slightly offended. “Wait, so you’re not into me?” he asks, half-joking, half-serious.
Charles groans, covering his face with his hands. “No, Lando, I’m not into you! I was trying to talk to your sister!” He gestures wildly at you, finally admitting what’s been obvious to you for weeks.
Lando blinks, and then a slow grin spreads across his face. “Ohhhh. Well, that makes more sense. Sorry, mate.” He claps Charles on the shoulder, clearly amused by the whole situation. “I’ll leave you two alone, then.” With a wink at you, Lando strolls off, leaving Charles standing there, still red-faced and flustered.
You smile up at him, finding his awkwardness incredibly endearing. “So, Charles, you were saying?”
Charles lets out a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right, yes. I was just going to ask if you maybe wanted to—uh, I don’t know—get coffee or something? Sometime?”
His eyes are hopeful, and you can’t help but find his nervousness cute. “I’d love to,” you reply, your voice soft and sincere.
His face lights up at your response, a grin spreading across his features that makes your heart flutter. “Really? That’s great! I mean, that’s really great.”
As Charles stands there, looking at you with a mixture of relief and excitement, you can’t help but think that this might just be the start of something wonderful. Even if it did take Lando’s hilarious misunderstanding to get you here.
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queenofterrasen418 · 6 months ago
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Cruel Fates (Part 2)
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Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader
Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?
Warnings: Angst (I don't think I can ever stop myself from writing angst.)
Based on this ask.
4.1K words
Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4
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You found yourself aimlessly wandering along the banks of Sidra after storming out on Rhys. The ambient noise enveloped you—the rhythmic splashes of the river against rocks, the bustling chatter of the market, birds chirping in the background. Everything felt mundane, yet strangely comforting. Ignoring your problems wasn’t a solution, as Rhys had pointed out, but it was undeniably easier than facing or even acknowledging them. Nevertheless, you had resigned yourself to the current state of affairs.
Using distraction as your shield, you returned home burdened with bags filled with new books, clothes, and other unnecessary items. As you entered the elegant two-story building you called home, a sense of familiarity and solace washed over you. This palace had become a sanctuary, a reflection of your own essence.
Closing the door behind you with a soft thud, you were greeted by the familiar scent of citrus and jasmine. Setting down the bags, you kicked off your shoes. The silence of the house stood in stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of the market. Just as thoughts of Azriel slipped from your mind, your senses sharpened, recognizing the subtle hum of shadows.
"Ah, the shadow singer. Ever heard of knocking or privacy?" you quipped, though you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.
"I'm a spymaster; it's not in my nature," he replied with his customary soft smile.
Refusing to let your gaze linger on him for too long, you busied yourself by fetching a glass of water.
"How can I assist you, Azriel?" you inquired as you filled the glass in the kitchen beyond the hall where he stood. You still felt a distance from him, not quite comfortable enough to address him as Az like your sisters, Feyre or Elain, did.
"Can't I simply enjoy your company?" he teased, his voice gentle.
Turning away, you closed your eyes for a moment, mentally reminding yourself to compartmentalize. "He's just being polite," you repeated to yourself, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that reminded you of Elain's constant talk about him. "He treats Elain the same."
You scoffed, hoping it didn’t come across as too rude. "Yeah, sure. Now, what brings you here?"
"We're expecting Eris to arrive in a few hours, around sunset. Rhys wanted me to ask if you've changed your mind."
Ah, you had forgotten about the impending meeting with the prince. You sighed. "And Rhys couldn’t ask me himself because?" It was a rhetorical question, but Azriel seemed unaware.
"He mentioned that you two had a disagreement, and he wasn’t sure if you'd be open to talking."
"Of course, I'll talk to him. I’m not a child," you replied, your brows furrowing. "And yes, I still intend to attend that meeting."
Azriel nodded, his expression unreadable as always. "Good to know. In that case, he asked me to inform you that you’ll have to deal with this meeting on your own, there are some crises with an Illyrian camp that he had to attend to, and he is running late.”
“Oh,” A part of you was glad that Rhys let you handle this, “It’ll just be me then?”
The spymaster shook his head, “Of course not, I’ll accompany you.”
You nodded as you were unsure of the right response, “Is there anything else I should know before I meet Eris?”
Azriel paused and started slowly, “My shadows tell me he wishes to overthrow his father. But it’s difficult to know what’s the truth.”
“Ahh, that’s why Rhys put me on this.”  you realized as Azriel nodded in response.
You wondered why Rhys requested you accompany him to a meeting with Eris. The powers you got from the cauldron were unique. Your ability ranges from slowing a person's pulse to snatching the air from their lungs as long as the target must be in your line of sight. You can command human organs and regulate emotions by releasing certain chemicals in the body. This allows you to induce suffocation by removing air from someone's lungs, controlling blood flow, causing heart attacks, dictating heart rhythm, and slowing healing. Aside from being extremely valuable in a battle, you can also act as a living lie detector, by monitoring a person’s physiological response.
“Alright, I’ll be there, is there anything else?” 
Azriel looked like he was about to say something before he muttered a no.
“You know better than to lie to me, what is it?”
He signed before he finally asked, “I knew that you and Rhys got close in a short time but I didn’t realise you were close enough that he trusted you to handle a meeting alone. That too with Eris.”
“Honestly, I didn't know either.” you said, “Rhys and I connected so quickly that it felt like I had known him for years, he is the older brother I never had. I am glad that he trusts me to handle this.”
You noticed a strange emotion flash in his eyes for a quick second before he gave a soft smile “I am happy for him, I am glad he found a friend in you, y/n. Cassian and I may be his brothers but he still doesn't confide in us completely, he is too afraid to burden us. Feyre and you are good for him.”
You returned his smile, “We all need someone to lean on.” 
“Well, Is there anything you need assistance with before then?", he asked.
You shook your head, dismissing any further conversation. "No, I'll manage. Thank you, Azriel."
He lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say something else, but ultimately turned to leave without another word.
As the door clicked shut behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. It wasn’t directed at Azriel, but rather at yourself for the walls you had built, preventing anyone from getting too close. Yet, at the same time, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting those walls crumble, leaving you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection. Aside from that, even if he did feel the same way, how long will it last? That too with your newly immortal lifespan? You have witnessed true love fall apart in a short time in the human lands. How would it not end in anything but pain in the life of an immortal? If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that to love, is to destroy. Not telling Azriel was the best option for yourself, you were not going to invite pain to your doorstep.
With a heavy heart, you retreated to your room. You knew that sooner or later, Azriel would find out but for now, you allowed yourself the temporary respite of distraction. 
Later that day, the anticipation of Eris's arrival hung heavy in the air as you prepared for the meeting. Despite your best efforts to focus on the task at hand, thoughts of Azriel and the unresolved tension between you lingered at the edges of your mind.
As the sun began its descent, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, a knock at the door signalled Eris's arrival. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you made your way to the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest.
Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Eris standing tall and imposing, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a striking shade of amber, sparkled with mischief as he took in your appearance.
If you were to describe him, you'd call him the living embodiment of fire. 
He was the light to Azriel's dark, they were opposite in every way possible.
“Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous Y/N," he drawled, his voice smooth like silk. "I must say, you're even more captivating in person."
You rolled your eyes at his flattery, though you couldn’t deny the flutter of excitement that his words stirred within you. "Save the charm, Eris. It won’t work on me."
He chuckled, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you, the air between felt charged, "You wound me, darling. I assure you, my intentions are nothing but genuine."
Before you could retort, Azriel appeared beside you, his presence like a sudden gust of wind that left you breathless. Though his expression remained neutral, you couldn’t shake the feeling of tension radiating from him.
You did miss how Azriel's heart rate was unusually increased, while Eris' remained stable calm and genuine, just like he mentioned before. 
“Eris," Azriel greeted with a nod, his voice devoid of warmth.
"Az," Eris replied, his smirk widening as he used Azriel's nickname. "Always a pleasure."
The air crackled with unspoken tension as the three of you made your way to the meeting room. Eris's gaze lingered on you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of curiosity and desire that sent a shiver down your spine as you all took your seats.
“Imagine how surprised I was when my high lord told me that you had requested a meeting with the night court.” you began holding the prince’s eyes.
“I had requested to meet Rhysand but I am not complaining. You are far better to look at.” Eris said with a smirk that never seemed to leave his face.
“I'll inform him that you were pleased by the arrangement.” you replied with an earnest smile.
Maybe this could be fun, you thought.
Maybe you found Eris fun.
As Eris seemed to give another flirty retort, Azriel spoke.
“Why are you here?
“Ugh! You are no fun Azriel. It’s not like you don't know already.”
You raise your brows at him, asking him to elaborate. 
Eris obliged, “I want to…” he  seemed to pause choosing his words carefully, “relieve my father from his duties and be the high lord of Autumn court.”
You couldn’t help but snort a laugh at his words, “‘relieve my father of his duties’? My, my, whatever happened to daddy's loyal boy?” 
You caught the slight upper tilt of Azriel's lips just as your powers detected the slight rise in the pulse of Eris before it slowed down again.
“Apparently he's not as loyal as you thought.”
“How can we trust you?”
“Who are you kidding, princess? I'd be a fool not to know about your interesting powers.”
“Fair enough, what does the night court have to do with this?”
“Help me, to get rid of my father, support my claim as the high lord.”
“Why would we do that? We’d then be replacing one monster for another.” you shot back.
If your words affected him, he showed no signs of it, physically at least, but the small spike in his cortisol levels and the drop in his pulse told you your words hit their mark.
Eris's smile tightened ever so slightly, but he maintained his composure, leaning back in his chair with an air of practised ease. "I can see why you might think that, but I assure you, I'm not my father. Unlike Beron, I see the value in alliances and mutual benefit."
Azriel crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Convincing words, Eris, but words are cheap. What do you have to offer in return for our support?" 
You couldn’t honestly remember when was the last time you had heard him speak this much, or if you had ever interacted with him for more than a few words.
Eris's gaze flickered to Azriel, then back to you. "Information. My father is planning something that could have catastrophic consequences for all of us. He's been working with a human queen—one who has a vested interest in starting a new war between our realms."
Your heart skipped a beat, a sense of dread settling over you. "Which queen?"
Eris's expression grew grave. "Queen Briallyn. She's amassed a formidable army and is working with my father to create a weapon that could tip the scales in her favour."
You exchanged a glance with Azriel, whose stoic expression betrayed a flicker of concern. "What kind of weapon?"
"One that can manipulate the very fabric of magic itself," Eris replied, his voice low and serious. "It could render even the most powerful High Lords and their courts defenceless."
Azriel's eyes darkened. "And you have proof of this?"
Eris reached into his coat and pulled out a small, intricately carved box. He placed it on the table and opened it to reveal a collection of documents and maps. "These are the plans and correspondences between my father and Queen Briallyn. Everything you need to verify my claims is right here."
You leaned forward, scrutinizing the documents. The meticulous detail and undeniable authenticity left little room for doubt. 
You sighed passing the letters to the shadowsinger. "Just when we thought Prythian had a moment of rest."
Eris met your gaze, his expression was earnest. "Our courts need to work together."
You considered his words, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It was a risk, but the potential consequences of inaction were too dire to ignore. "Assuming we agree to help, how do you propose we go about it?"
Eris's smirk returned, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "We can meet regularly and update eachother with what we know and proceed from there."
Azriel's gaze remained fixed on Eris, his expression unreadable. "And what guarantees do we have that you won't betray us once you have what you want?"
Eris leaned forward, his amber eyes burning with intensity. "You have my word and the knowledge that if I betray you, I'll be signing my own death warrant. Beron would kill me in a heartbeat. I need this alliance as much as you do."
You took a deep breath, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, you nodded. "Alright, Eris. We'll discuss this with our high lord and get back to you. But know this—if you betray us, there will be nowhere in this world you can hide."
Eris inclined his head, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "Understood. Now, I've always been curious about your powers," he began, his tone light but laced with genuine interest. "I've heard rumours, but I find that firsthand accounts are always more... enlightening."
You arched an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression. "Have you now, Eris? And I’m not in the habit of revealing my secrets to just anyone." Your powers were not publicized much, you and Rhys decided it was more advantageous to keep it quiet. But they weren’t a secret either.
Eris chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Ah, but I'm not just anyone, am I? People talk about you being able to control the very essence of life itself. Now, that sounds rather impressive, don't you think?"
You chuckled softly, crossing your arms. "Rumours tend to exaggerate. I'm sure the truth is far less exciting."
Eris took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "Is that so? From what I understand, you can manipulate the body on a molecular level. Imagine the possibilities... and the danger."
You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "Dangerous, perhaps, but only to those who give me a reason to use it."
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Fair enough. But tell me, how does it work? Do you just think about it and—poof—someone's heart stops beating?"
You gave him a sly smile. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. Or at least give you a nasty headache."
Eris laughed, a rich, warm sound that filled the room.
Eris's expression grew more serious, though his smile remained. "You know, Y/N, there's something else I've been thinking about.”
You looked at Azriel and joked, “Look at that! You have certainly been thinking a lot recently, haven’t you Eris? Looks like you’ve been having a lot of thoughts.” You were surprised that Azriel gave a small smile from the way he had tensed this entire meeting, waiting for a chance to pounce on the Autumn prince.
Eris widened his smile at your comment as he continued, “Here’s my proposal, this alliance between us... it could be more than just a political arrangement."
You tilted your head, intrigued despite yourself. "Oh? And what exactly are you suggesting, Eris?"
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm suggesting a union between our courts, a marriage of sorts. Think about it—together, we’d hold so much power." 
Azriel lost all his self-control as he whispered in a deadly calm tone, “You have gone insane.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. Your powers silently rush to soothe Azriel before he does something reckless, "You certainly don't lack ambition, I'll give you that. But why on earth would I consider such an arrangement?" 
Eris's gaze softened, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something deeper in his eyes. "Because I believe we could be unstoppable together. You're powerful, intelligent, and, if I may be so bold, quite captivating. With your abilities and my resources, there's no limit to what we could achieve."
You felt a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest hint of intrigue.
“Too bad you were already mated, if only he knew”, you thought to yourself.
A slow thought crept into your mind, “So what if you were mated? Nothing was going to come out of it anyway.” 
"Captivating, am I? You do know how to charm, Eris. But you'll have to do better than that to convince me."
Eris's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with determination. "Consider it, Y/N. Imagine what we could accomplish together. The Autumn Court and the Night Court united as one. We could bring peace, prosperity, and a new era of cooperation to our people."
You studied him for a long moment, weighing his words. There was no denying the potential benefits of such a union, but there were also risks—trusting Eris was a gamble, and one you weren't sure you were ready to take. Thoughts of what he did to Mor screamed in your head.
“I didn’t forget your past with Morrigan, Eris. You still expect me to agree to this?”
His eyes narrowed at that, “Morrigan knows the truth of what happened that day. Ask her for the entire truth.”
Confusion bloomed inside you at his words but you did not have time to sort through lies now, Azriel was too agitated and you were left with an important choice to make.
"I'll think about it," you finally said, your tone careful. "But don't get your hopes up, Eris. I'm not so easily won over." you slipped a mask of playfulness again.
Eris chuckled, rising from his seat with a graceful fluidity. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Y/N. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind."
You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'll keep an open mind. But remember, Eris—if you cross me, you'll regret it."
He inclined his head, his expression earnest. "I wouldn't dream of it. Until next time, Y/N."
With that, Eris turned and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The idea of a union with Eris was both tempting and daunting, and you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for the two of you—and for your courts.
The room settled into an uneasy silence. You could feel the tension radiating from Azriel beside you, a stark contrast to his usually calm demeanour. His jaw was clenched, and his shadows seemed to writhe and twist around him with a life of their own.
You turned to face him, concern etched into your features. "Azriel, what's wrong? If I hadn’t calmed you Mother knows what you’d have done to him!"
Azriel’s eyes, usually a cool and controlled shade of hazel, now burned with a fierce intensity. "What's wrong? Are you seriously considering his proposal, Y/N?"
You blinked, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction, you have never seen this side of him.
 "It's not as simple as that, Azriel. We have to consider all options if we want to ensure the safety of Prythian."
He took a step closer, his voice low and filled with barely suppressed anger. "Eris is playing a dangerous game. A union with him? You can't seriously think that's a good idea."
You met his gaze, your own frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not saying I'm going to marry him tomorrow, Azriel. But we can't dismiss his proposal outright. There’s the potential benefit—"
Azriel cut you off, his voice rising. "Potential benefit? He's manipulating you, Y/N! He wants power, and he’ll use you to get it. Do you really believe he has anyone's interests at heart other than his own?"
You felt a surge of defensiveness, your own anger flaring in response. "And what if he does? What if this alliance could actually bring about the change we need? We can’t afford to let personal grudges cloud our judgment. He meant everything he said today, not a single ill-intended thought!"
Azriel’s expression darkened, his shadows growing more agitated. "This isn't about personal grudges. This is about trust, about loyalty. Eris has proven time and time again that he can’t be trusted. And now he's proposing a union with you? He’s trying to bind you to him, Y/N. To control you."
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "I know it’s risky, Azriel. But we need allies. We need every advantage we can get if we're going to take down Beron and stop this war."
Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And what about your own safety? What about the risk to you? I can't stand by and watch you put yourself in danger for a power-hungry prince who will betray you the first chance he gets."
Your heart ached at the raw concern in his voice, hope threatened to manifest in you but you shoved it aside and held your ground. "Why do you care, Azriel? I can take care of myself. I’m not making any decisions lightly. I just need to consider every option."
Your words cut through the air like a sharp blade, and for a moment, Azriel seemed taken aback by your response. His gaze softened, his expression filled with a mixture of frustration and hurt.
"Why do I care?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Because you are like Rhys’s little sister, you are one of us. Because I can't bear the thought of anything happening to you."
Though a part of you was glad he cared but you scoffed in disbelief, “Right. Because I am important to Rhys. Well, this decision is mine to make and I will discuss it with Rhys as it concerns his court. I’ll be sure to take what you feel into consideration. Thank you for your input, Azriel.”
His gaze hardened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Fine. If that's how you want it. But have you ever stopped to consider the possibility that you might have a mate, Y/N?"
The question hung in the air like a heavy weight, the implication sinking in with a sickening certainty. You felt your breath catch in your throat, the blood draining from your face as you struggled to comprehend his words.
"What if you have a mate out there, waiting for you?" Azriel continued, his voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of pain. "What then?"
You recoiled as if struck, the weight of his words crashing down on you like a tidal wave. The truth, the painful, unbearable truth, threatened to drown you in its depths. A dry, joyless laugh came out of you.
"I don't have a mate," you spat out, your voice trembling with rage. You lied without a second thought. The ease of it scared you. "And even if I did, it's none of your damn business, Azriel. Stay out of my life."
With that final, venomous retort, you turned on your heel and winnowed out of the room, leaving Azriel behind in a cloud of anguish and regret. 
As you fled down the empty corridors of the townhouse, your heart ached with a pain you couldn't name. 
You opened Rhys’s study door without a second thought and sighed in relief as you found Feyre and him.
Realization of what truly happened spread through you like a bolt of lightning hit you. Both of them were quickly at your side, worried and asking you questions. A single tear slipped as your voice broke,
 “Not telling him was one thing, but lying to him? Oh cauldron, what have I done?”
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Next Part
Taglist: @sidthedollface2, @a-courtof-azriel, @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog, @acourtofsmutandstarlight,@katherinejess, @mybestfriendmademe , @landofpetrichor , @isa1b2h3 , @anuttellaa , @cherryinsalemverse
Let me know if you want to get added to the list or if I missed someone!
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goldengirliez · 6 months ago
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STEALING MIKEY'S KEYS SO HE'S LATE FOR A MEETING>>>>>
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09:32 pm
I believe that intimacy is the new kind of pure love. Getting to know someone on a deeper level is something that goes beyond simple attachment, it goes beyond the simple but necessary need of validation.
Being intimate means getting on the same frequency level as a person and communicating effectively with each word, each action, and each stare.
Intimacy isn't something you only find under the sheets until sweat, tears and arousal dampen the mattress. Its true nature lies in between the actions of your everyday life, moments that don't need any kind of particular reason to happen and yet feel special because you are there, you are connected.
You have realised such a thing only briefly as the air is getting in and out of your lungs hectically, your breath coming short and irregular and the adrenaline rushing through your veins full speed with each pump of your vital muscle.
Your legs almost shake and your feet ache slightly, your eyes darting to the person in front of you with an excited and rebellious glimmer, the glint of life.
You've been running away from Mikey for the last ten minutes because you had taken the keys to his motorbike.
He has been spending every evening with Toman recently, not passing by your home to even say goodnight because the meetings always finish late at night.
You know that he always tries his best to make it up to you for the lost time with his ways of bringing your favourite sweets to school, taking you home and around the city with his bike whenever you need to, sending you a sweet message randomly throughout the day to check up on you, never missing the opportunity to hug you, kiss you or keeping you close when you pass by, and yet… You can't help but miss him more than anything.
You tried to talk to him about it but he prefers for you to not get too involved in his gang business: he fears your safety, not wanting hundreds of testosterone-filled guys to get close to his beloved.
You fear nothing when he's by your side but he still turns you down when you ask to come along with him: he has lost too many people he cared about for his good and he has no intention of putting you in danger even the slightest.
This had to change.
That's why you're preventing him from heading to the meeting of Toman until he makes up his mind.
“Y/N! I'm gonna be late, please, give me those darn keys back, goddamnit!!”
His voice spurts out desperately, short puffs of air coming out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath: you're fast for fuck’s sake!
He is a bit pissed at you for acting this stubborn, sure, but he can't help the wide smile that plasters on his face the more he hears you laugh every time he can't catch you, every time you hide behind his motorbike and fool him by running in the opposite direction, almost tripping on your own feet.
That smile of yours, that light in your eyes is worth every spare minute of his life and the meeting can wait if that means he has the chance to see you this full of energetic playfulness.
You're both in the flowers of your youth and sometimes you forget that due to how harsh life experiences can be. Moments like these make up for the lost time.
As you raise your hand high and shake his keys, making them jingle as you do so, you can't help but feel overpowered by pride: having your super athletic boyfriend, the invincible Mikey whining out to you so he can get what he wants isn't an everyday occurrence (I mean– unless he's begging for sweets or your attention, of course). Maybe you could break him and he would finally let you come along in one of his meetings.
“Begging ain't gonna do shit, you gotta work for it, Mikey!”
Sprinting to the other side of the garden of his house, you can feel him sigh exasperatedly and follow you along as he mutters “If I catch you–" in between a breathy laugh.
The wind feels magical against your skin, the cool breeze of the night after a heated summer day gives you goosebumps and yet you feel hot all over; your blood pressure rising with each stride of your run is what keeps you going, laughing nonstop as you stare up the full moon over your head briefly, savouring such a moment that will surely become a core memory of yours.
As you hide behind his motorbike once again, Mikey stops a few feet away from you, the vehicle is the only thing separating your bodies.
“You’re a menace, y/n!”
You shrug at his words, rotating his keys on the tip of your index finger with a proud expression.
“I guess that dating a delinquent made the trick– eek!”
You can't even finish your sentence as Mikey takes a run-up and easily jumps over his CB250T and lands not so graciously on top of you, making you fall on the grass with a thud. The impact doesn't hurt that much though, not when Mikey put a hand behind your head right on time so you couldn't injure the slightest.
He couldn't resist the urge to bring you down and wipe off your face that shit-eating grin and see that cute pout your peachy lips make every time he catches you by surprise. He's a weak man, bear with him.
Pinning you down on the floor he takes away his keys from your hand and smiles toothly: his rosy cheeks and messy hair shine under the moonlight, his obsidian gems staring into your soul easily make you melt and your initial annoyance turns into an amused laugh. He's your angel, no matter what.
“Sorry, what were you saying about dating a delinquent?”
Rolling your eyes at his statement, your smile slowly fades when he gets off you and brushes some grass away from your shirt with his hand, before kissing the top of your head with the soft petals of his lips.
He was going to leave again and that thought screeches inside your brain. It doesn't sit well with you the fact that he's keeping you detached from a big aspect of his life… There's a strong gut feeling that tells you you shouldn't let it slide, you should insist on being part of this area of his life because, if you don't, something extremely bad will happen in the future.
And Mikey sees right through you, he always does, because he loves you and he is connected to your being in every way for respect and admiration.
He feels the intimate bond you two share, he can almost touch that connection, he can feel the burn of the red string that connects the two of you.
He can feel his bones ache under the weight of letting you drown away from him so sad and helpless and whenever he sees your angelic face darken out of worry and fear for him, for the both of you.
He knew why you took the keys away from him that day and he couldn't help finding it amusing and cute... but believe me when I say he's not blind and recognises the desperate attempt to have yourself near him for longer.
Mikey stands up from the ground and offers you his hand to stand up, his calloused hand brushes against your tender palm and holds in a strong and warm hold that doesn't flatter even when you're finally standing.
Staring down at your feet, your voice comes out in a whisper, a loving but pained one.
“Please, be careful Mik–”
“Hop on.”
Your head snaps up, your eyes searching for his out of confusion and then hope.
The two of you are intimate, you understand each other's worries and can feel them within your organs, you can feel each emotion run through your being and resonate like a magnetic wave from you to him and vice versa.
You two are flames that burn for love, with love: your glint should never flatter, you deserve to feel it alive and vibrating.
Mikey smiles at you as he puts his helmet on top of your head and secures it attentively.
“I'll keep you safe, pinkey promise”.
That's your man to you.
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I have had this idea bouncing inside my head for a while now! I've been inspired by this post of the sweet @xsleepinggoodx.
I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.
English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!
Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖
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©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.
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emphistic · 7 months ago
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Can't Relate to Desperation
A/N: requested by anon — i apologize for how long this took; this was fun to write
— just a heads-up: this is preschool!Sukuna
“—I was wondering if you could help me with a little favor.”
“Sure, shoot.” Your friend was surprised to see Sukuna — out of all people — approach them, but they didn't show it.
“Y/N’s birthday is pretty soon, and I don’t have any ideas on what to get her.” Sukuna had known you for a long while. But that didn’t mean he knew what you wanted for a birthday present. I mean, he obviously knows your likes and dislikes. Your hobbies and pastimes. Your favorite colors, foods, drinks, movies, even. But none of those gave him an idea for a meaningful birthday present.
“Ohh, yeah. I'm getting her a matching pajama set! Because we’re going to have a sleepover after her party.”
Sukuna mentally raised a brow at that, he thought you guys were already planning on having a sleepover. And he most definitely did not remember inviting anyone else to the sleepover.
“I didn't ask.” Sukuna wanted to get this questionnaire over with already, and go back to playing with you on the swings or something like that.
“Hey! That’s not nice. I’ll tell the teacher.”
“Can you help me or not?”
“No, because you’re a meanie. And meanies don’t deserve my help.” Your friend crossed her arms and turned away from Sukuna, emitting a little ‘hmph’ sound.
“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Can you just help me?” He couldn't believe he just apologized to someone other than you.
“Fine,” your friend huffed out, turning back around.
All the while, you watched this exchange happen from afar. Earlier, you were back in the classroom, digging through your backpack to find the necklace you had purchased with your early birthday money from your parents. You had planned to give it to Sukuna, but it currently looked like he had acquired another friend.
And, what made it even more disappointing was the fact you spent at least ten minutes looking for him. You waited outside the restrooms, searched the playground, dug through the sandpit — in case he got buried, and even checked the cubbies. Then you took a lap outside, and found him talking to another girl, who happened to be your [second] best friend — (Sukuna being the first).
The smile plastered across your face immediately dropped, and so did the necklace in your hands.
It’s not like Sukuna wasn’t allowed to have other friends, it’s the fact that he doesn't — by choice, obviously — except for you. And it's been that way, ever since you complimented his hair, saying, “I love the pink! It is my favorite color,” which was contrary to many of your other classmates. Most kids actually made fun of him for it, albeit Sukuna would always glare in their direction and the laughter and teasing would stop in an instant.
You couldn't believe your eyes. He usually ignored people who tried to talk to him and pushed aside those who wanted to make friends. So why was he suddenly talking to your friend? Was he trying to replace you? Did he get bored of you? Why were they talking in such a secluded area behind the garbage cans? Was he trying to hide all of this from you?
You wiped your soon watering eyes with your sleeve, grabbed the necklace off the ground, and quickly ran in the opposite direction.
Coincidentally, as soon as Sukuna got all the information he needed from your friend, he saw your figure turning around. Why were you here? He thought.
“Thanks.” Sukuna ran away from your friend, and as soon as he caught up to you, he said, “Hey, where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” You didn't turn around to face him, continuing to run away.
Sukuna came to a halt, staring at your back. What's your problem? Sukuna decided it was probably nothing, and that you just wanted some alone time, so he left you to your alone time and resorted to playing in the sandpit by himself. But it didn't feel the same as when you played with him. The sand was too warm, the sandcastle was off-center with the hills made of sand, the birds’ singing was too loud. Nothing was right.
You had to admit, avoiding Sukuna was like avoiding the sun. You could hide out under roofs and loiter inside the restrooms, but you had to get out eventually. And eventually you did; recess had ended and you had to get back to the classroom to continue your lessons. And who did you sit next to? Take a wild guess.
When you sat down in your seat, you scooted your chair as far as possible away from the boy beside you — who stayed still, utterly confused at your actions, and wondering why the hell you were being this way.
Then, your class was assigned a group project. Sukuna turned to you, expecting the two of you to pair up, but to his surprise, you asked another classmate to pair up instead.
Okay, he thought. Maybe you just want to get social with other people; that's fine. That's normal.
What wasn’t normal was the fact that you continued to blatantly ignore the pink-haired boy even at lunchtime.
Sukuna asked you his usual question, “Do you want to share my juicebox?” And, thank Heavens, you finally looked him in the eye. But then you flatly said, “No,” before turning around and starting to eat your own lunch.
Sukuna frowned. “What’s your deal today? Are you allergic to apple juice now or something?”
“No.” Going back to what you did earlier, you didn't face him this time, choosing to eat your sandwich in peace.
Usually, you gave him the crust of your sandwiches to eat, because you didn’t like how they tasted, and he did, but you decided against that today. Which was a shame, Sukuna was looking forward to eating your sandwich’s crust.
“Geez, okay. Be that way, I guess.” Sukuna stabbed the straw into his juicebox and drank. But like the sandpit, it just wasn't the same.
This continued all day. And I mean all day.
Sukuna was starting to get real upset. This frustrated him deeply. He swore that if you kept on avoiding him and running away every single time he tried to approach you, he was going to end up with white hairs at the age of four.
Did you not want to be his friend anymore? Did you finally grow to dislike his pink hair that you once loved so much? He hoped the answers to those questions were a definite ‘no’.
He hoped the answer to those questions was a definite ‘no’.
Finally defeated and having given up on his searching for you all over school, he walked to the playground, hoping that swinging would clear his head. And God, he was so thankful he did just that. Because upon entering the play area, he found you, already sitting on the swings and swinging sadly, by yourself. You were swinging sadly on the swings, yes, indeed you were.
It was quite an amusing sight, to anyone who didn’t know the context. But Sukuna did, to an extent, at least. He knew you were upset, and that the likely cause was him. It was always him. Always. Good or bad, happy or sad, he was always the cause, for you. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?
Your head was low, focused on staring at the ground beneath you as you swung back and forth. Sukuna thought you looked cute like that — your braids dangling in front of your face, as you basked in the sun’s rays.
But then Sukuna remembered the task at hand, and made sure to approach you with caution and much needed confidence [in himself].
When he got closer to you — only a few feet apart — he quickly realized why your head was so low when you raised it to look at him, tears in your doe, yet angelically pure eyes.
He cleared his throat. “Y/N. What’s . . . wrong? What’s upsetting you? . . .Is it me?” He whispered the last part, to the point it was barely audible; but you heard him. You always did.
“Why don’t you go and talk to your other new friend, huh?” You spat out, stifling a hiccup as it came.
“Wait—what?” Sukuna’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“Don’t play dumb. I know what you did. I know what you’re doing. You can replace me with whoever you want, I don’t care, not anymore. Now go away so I can play all by my lonesome.
“Y/N, I’m not replacing you. I know you’re a dummy sometimes but. . . Where’d you even get such a ridiculous idea?”
“Oh, so I’m the dummy?” you retaliated.
Then it hit him, you were referring to earlier this morning, when he was talking to your friend for advice on what to get you as a birthday present.
“I—you’ve got it all wrong, Y/N. All wrong. I wasn’t, I’m not, and I would never ever replace you. So get that stupid idea out of your head already. I was just asking her for help to . . . get you . . . something — for your . . . birthday, that’s coming up soon.” He didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but if it would make you feel any better, he couldn’t care less about keeping a silly little secret.
“Oh, Sukunaaa! You could’ve just asked me!” You jumped off the swings, swiftly wiping your teary eyes dry, and tackled Sukuna into a hug. The two of you fell into a giggling mess of tangled limbs on the ground.
And to your surprise, the following week, Sukuna gifted you a necklace at your birthday party. It was a cheap, dainty necklace, that much was obvious. But opening the heart charm revealed a poorly taken, bad quality, photo of you and Sukuna both. You two were smiling like idiots, embraced in a hug, and you recognized the picture to date back to when you visited Sukuna at one of his basketball games. The first game of his that you went to, actually.
The cherry on top was the fact that the necklace he got you was the same necklace you were planning on giving him before you saw him talking to your friend last week.
But, ah, it was whatever. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside
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thefatedthoughtofyou · 2 years ago
Text
Found myself thinking about Eddie being insecure because he doesn't see himself as Steve's type, and sees the people who flirt with him and well...
Just picture it with me.
Eddie and Steve have been together for a bit. Maybe like, a few months, but they were technically together before, inseparable in the most annoying gooey way. And things are GOOD. Eddie's never been happier.
The way Steve's been so patient with him. Eddie has no idea how relationships work, let alone the sex stuff. He's totally inexperienced. He's maybe kissed a few people before Steve. But not much else.
And Steve is.. so sweet to him. Always asking if he's okay, if this or that touch is alright. Eddie had literally cum in his fucking pants one night, so fast, embarrassingly fast. But Steve had climbed into his lap and he just... couldn't handle it.
He'd been so fucking embarrassed, but Steve had just held him. Not letting him run to the bathroom like he'd wanted too. He had let Eddie hide his face in his neck though, pressed kisses into Eddie's hair until he calmed down.
And THEN he'd let him get up and clean himself off. But only after he made sure Eddie knew he didn't have to be embarrassed.
Steve didn't tell him then, but it made him feel a little crazy. And he definitely hadn't made a plan to make Eddie do it again, needing to hear that sweet little sound that lodged itself in Eddie's throat as his hands grabbed at Steve. He felt like he could fucking fly for the rest of the night.
But it had been a rough couple weeks for Eddie. He'd walked into family video twice this week to see beautiful girls trailing after Steve, big moony, hopeful eyes, as Steve pointed out a few movie options, looking bored.
And Eddie knew he wasn't interested in these girls, or the odd guy who would come in, maybe flirt a little. Steve never returned any of the advances, just gave them his tight cutomer service smile. A smile Eddie and Robin constantly made fun of him for.
But he'd been talking to Robin about some french movie, he'd actually done pretty well in french, so he let Robin force him to sit through movies that he could vaguely understand.
But he'd glanced at Steve, just the briefest look, and had seen a pretty brunette touching his arm and laughing. And Steve had chuckled, a little, and that's fine. Eddie doesn't care if he has friends, it's not... that's not it. Not the issue.
Because Eddie loves Steve's laugh, it's not even about Steve, because Eddie's focus is never on Steve in the these moments. It's always on the beautiful people talking to Steve. Flirting with Steve.
Eddie's eyes linger on the girl's hair, it looks a bit like his, more curls, falling beautifully down her back. Her eyes are pretty, the slope of her nose is nice, and she's got a good laugh too, bubbly, pretty. Eddie swallows hard, notices Steve's eyes on him over the girls shoulder. Steve waves, smiles, leaves the girl behind as he walks toward Eddie.
His palms are sweating as Steve walks over, smiling. He steps behind the counter next to Robin, leans his elbows on it, toward Eddie, into his space. Eddie sighs, can't help but smile.
"Hey Eds, we still on for movie night?" He asks, tapping his fingers against the movie Eddie had brought to the counter, not paying attention to what it was. They never ended up watching the movie anyway. Eddie nods.
"Yeah of course. I was just, grabbing it." His head feels fuzzy, lost in thought. Steve frowns.
"You okay?" He asks. Eddie shakes his head, pins on the best smile he can manage.
"Yeah. All good. We're doin pizza again too right?" He asks, sliding the movie off the counter and walking backwards to the door. Steve smiles again, believing Eddie's fragile cover.
"Watch out for the-" Robin calls, her hand raised.
"Oof-" Eddie huffs as his back slams into the-
"Door." Robin and Steve say together. Eddie grimaces a small smile and waves, ducking out the door. Robin and Steve laughing as they get back to work.
~°~
They're on the couch, movie forgotten, like always. Steve is sitting in Eddie's lap, hands in his hair, fingers moving against his scalp soothingly as he kisses down Eddie's neck. And Eddie's trying to be into it, wants to be, he is. On one level.
But his thoughts have been racing all day, images of all those beautiful people flirting with Steve. Who is the most fucking beautiful person Eddie's ever goddamn met. And he's sitting in his fucking lap, offering himself to Eddie like he always fucking does.  And Eddie is just, is so... distracted.
His hands are resting on Steve's thighs, his headed tilted, giving Steve access to his neck, but he just, he can't focus. Steve's mouth stops, presses a small kiss to his collar bone, and then he's leaning back, resting his butt on Eddie's knees as he looks down at him.
"You okay Ed's?" Steve asks, his voice soft, his touch even softer as his thumbs rest on Eddie's neck. Eddie blinks up at him, licks his lips, opens his mouth, closes it, and nods, his fingers squeezing Steve's thigh as he leans up, tries to kiss Steve, change the subject.
Steve's hand on his chest presses him back down, into the couch, Eddie makes a little noise, Steve smiles, but his eyes are concerned.
"Hey. What's goin on in that head? You've been so quiet. Like... all day." Steve says, his hands back on Eddie's neck, his eyes soft as he waits for Eddie to answer.
"Isn't that a good thing?" Eddie asks, cringes when his voice sounds... bitter? Steve's eyes widen.
"Whoa. What?" He asks, scooting forward a little, setting on Eddie's thighs instead of perching on his knees, getting more comfortable. Eddie shakes his head, bites his lip. Huffs at himself, because he feels like he's about to fucking cry.
"Hey. Talk to me. What's happening?" Steve asks, his hands moving up, thumbs moving over Eddie's cheeks, keeping him facing Steve.
"Nothin. Everything's fine. I'm just- nothing." He tries to smile, knows it doesn't reach his eyes, and Steve droops, bringing him ever closer.
"Eddie. Your hands haven't moved since I got on top of you. You haven't touched my ass once. Not even when I did that tongue thing you like." Steve says, cautious. Eddie rolls his eyes.
"I don't like it that much." He shakes his head, keeping his eyes OFF Steve, though he's still cradling his face.
"You whimper every time I do it. And you grabbed my ass hard enough to leave bruises. So I've got proof." Steve teases, rubbing his nose along Eddie's. Eddie heart thumps, he did really like it. Fuckin Steve. He huffs, rolls his eyes again and then moves them back to Steve.
"Just tell me what's wrong." He kisses his forhead, rests his head there after.
"Please." He whispers, his hands moving back into Eddie's hair, scratching at his scalp the way he knows Eddie likes, it relaxes him. He sighs, melts into Steve's touch and clears his throat. Because he doesn't wanna say it. It's stupid. He feels stupid.
"It's stupid." He shakes his head. Steve's brow furrows.
"I'm sure it's not." He says. Eddie swallows hard again, the lump in his throat starting to burn.
"Why me?" And he sounds, small, even to himself, can't imagine how he sounds to Steve, so he closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the couch. Steve is quiet, for a moment.
"What do you mean why you?" He asks, Eddie opens his eyes to see Steve's confused face, his eyes off to the side, looking at the couch, thinking. Eddie sniffles, wipes at his face and tries again, Steve's eyes jump to him, concerned.
"I just- I guess I just- I mean you could have anybody." His voice cracks, he takes his hands off Steve's thighs, rests them on his own stomach instead.
"I just don't understand." Eddie shakes his head. Steve moves his hands, settles them over Eddie's.
"I uh... I guess." Steve says, slowly, uncertain.
"Eddie look at me."
Eddie doesn't. Steve laughs, snorts really, and grabs Eddie's cheeks, gentle with his scars. He moves Eddie's face until Eddie can't not look at him.
"Hi." Steve says, small smile starting to bloom.
"Hi." Eddie huffs, crosses his arms, they bump Steve, jostle him a bit.
"Eddie I don't want anyone else. I want you. You know that right?" Steve asks, his face so close, his eyes so fucking earnest. Eddie nods. Because he does, he does know that. He tries to look away, just moves his eyes as Steve holds his head still.
"I know. I know that. I just-" he takes a shakey breath, fights the sob that's threating to bubble out of his throat.
"I don't know why." Eddie says, and it's a whine when it leaves him, his throat is too tight for it to be anything else.
"All these beautiful people flirt with you, like... all the time. And I know you don't care about that. I know that! But I see them, and the way they look at you, and I just... I don't understand why you picked me. Over that. Over them? I- I'm not..." Steve wipes the tears away from his cheeks but stays silent, lets him keep talking.
"They're all so beautiful. And you're so beautiful. And you just- it's like you don't even see them? And then fucking come here to be with me and I just don't understand why!?" Eddie's voice is loud now, his hands flailing at his sides as Steve keeps his hands on Eddie, they're on his shoulders now. His thumbs soothing against Eddie's collarbones. Eddie's breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, his face his wet, and Steve is fucking looking down at him like he fucking hung the stars.
"Why are you looking at me like that." Eddie's voice squeaks. Steve's smile just gets bigger and bigger.
"What?" Eddie's hands grab at his waist, tickling him enough that Steve's concentration breaks, and he laughs, once, before he grabs at Eddie's shirt and brings them face to face again, so close. His nose moving against Eddie's again before he pulls back a bit.
"I um... I love you." He says, biting his lip, his cheeks going red as he looks down at Eddie. And Eddie's heart thuds in his ears. There's... he wasn't expecting that. Steve's never said that to him before. He's said, lots of things, lots of very nice and sweet and filthy, other things. But never that.
"I- you?" Eddie's brow furrows.
"Yeah." Steve nods, more confident now.
"I love you. And yeah, people flirt with me sometimes, and yeah they're pretty. But they're not you. You're fucking breathtaking to me. And I just... want you. Because I love you." Steve shrugs, like it's the fucking simplest thing in the world.
"You love me?" Eddie asks, his brain feels like it's trying to walk through fucking quicksand. Steve snorts.
"Yes. Idiot." He breathes, lowers himself into Eddie's space, kisses him, sweetly. Pulls back, smiles as Eddie's hands scramble against the back of his sweater.
"That's more like it." Steve breathes, tries to kiss Eddie again, frowns when Eddie moves his hands to his chest and holds him back. Eddie feels like he's gonna cry again, he looks up at Steve, blinks.
"I-"
"You don't have to say it." Steve cuts him off.
"But I want to. I- I do." Eddie sniffles, Steve wipes at his face again, rests his head against Eddie's.
"Well go on then." He teases, holding Eddie's neck, he scoots closer, presses himself harder into Eddie's lap. Eddie sucks in a breath, his fingers clawing at Steve's thighs now.
"C'mon Ed's, tell me." He whispers, one hand moving down Eddie's side, his fingers dipping under Eddie's shirt, he moans at the contact.
"Fuck I love you. So much." Eddie breathes, his hands moving to Steve's ass, fingers digging in, pulling him closer. Steve hums happily, rolls his hips.
"There he is." Steve breathes into Eddie's neck, his lips dragging over Eddie's skin, making him shiver.
"I do though. I love you." Eddie's voice is steady now, certain. Steve leans back again, smiling softly at him.
"I know." He says, eyebrows jumping on his forhead. Eddie gasps, dramatic.
"Oh you fucker." Eddie whispers, fists his hand in Steve's shirt and drags him foward, their noses bumping roughly.
"You love it." Steve whispers against his lips before licking into his mouth, smiling against Eddie's lips as he moans in affirmation.
Eddie's heart pounds in his chest as Steve's hands move up under his shirt, holding him closer, his entire body flushing as Steve touches him, rolls his hips into him with purpose, making Eddie whimper as he holds on, his fingers digging into Steve the way he knows Steve likes, all thoughts of anyone else gone from his mind.
Steve kisses down his neck again, smirks into Eddie's skin as he rolls his hips one more time, pushing Eddie over the egde again, for the second time, smiling into Eddie's shirt as that perfect little noise hits his ears. Eddie clinging to him as Steve shows him he has no fucking need to worry about anyone else. Eddie is it for him.
Always.
Probably forever.
As long as Eddie will have him.
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readychilledwine · 7 months ago
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Mister Grumpy Pantseses
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Summary - All you wanted was a day in the vegetable garden with your husbands. Your husbands just wanted to spend the day at each other's throats.
Warnings - a bit of a communication issue trope, grumpy sunshine, reader is Tamlin's sister and uses one of his tactics, jealousy, name calling, Fluff, reader is a literal ray of joy
Prompt - Day 5 - Favorite Tropes
A/N - Happy @polyacotarweek day 5! I am running a little behind, so my other fave trope will be up later, but enjoy a little grumpy azris with their sunshine reader with a bit of miscommunication
💕Poly+ACOTAR Week Masterlist💕
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 “Fucking asshole.”
“Azriel!”
“Bastard.”
“Eris!” You pouted at your mates, sighing as they glared at each other. "Can we please have a nice breakfast? We have so much work to do in the garden if we want the vegetables ready in time to take to the hungry. We need to have energy."
Azriel grumbled an agreement while Eris rolled his eyes. “I am more than happy to spend time with you, foxling. It is that one I can't stand the sight of right now.”
"Eris!"
“Eris, our mate is asking you to stop being an entitled, self righteous, snake for one day. Surely you can handle that.”
“Azriel!”
“You're the one who set me off this morning, Azriel. Must you always run around brooding?” You felt yourself slowly sinking into your chair. The males you love most were both tired, so very tired. They were stressed from their duties and all you wanted was to love and help them.
They had not spent time with just each other in a few weeks. Eris had been too heavily scented on their last night together. It had been Azriel's way of telling you hello, but it lingered, dancing into the air during breakfast at the Forest House the next day. You had glamored it well enough from everyone but his mother. She seemed to see through you and Eris. Almost like she knew you two were hiding something or someone. Eris had caved, telling her everything about Azriel. Her advice had been simple, protect him. 
And Eris had taken that as, “Avoid him.” 
You looked between your two glaring mates, heartbroken at how their sadness was turning to grumpiness. “I'm going to go to the garden. Maybe you two should talk.” You left before one of them could respond then smiled, warding them in the cabin. If they wouldn't talk willingly, you'd force them to!
Azriel glared at Eris, and the heir returned it fully. “Our mate, our beautiful, selfless, and kind mate is outside by herself. Working in that damned garden. Because you want to be a grumpy asshole.”
Eris looked shocked, eyes wide as his jaw dropped. “I haven't done anything! I tried to greet you last night, and you ignored me in favor of y/n. Then this morning you wouldnt even kiss me good morning!”
“Can you blame me? She at least answers when I write.” Azriel watched the hit land, watched as Eris seemed to deflate. 
“I missed you. Regardless of how you feel, I missed you.” Eris stood to go out the door and jumped back as he was shocked. “Oh you have got to be kidding me.”
Azriel felt his face fall as well, walking to the after he did and jumping back as he was shocked as well. “Took that straight out of her brother's book, didn't she?” 
Eris couldn't help but laugh. “She doesn't even know he did that. I keep her here and away from him and Rhysand lately. It would break her heart all over again."
Azriel then began to laugh too, “She hates when we are mean to each other.”
“Because the world should be sunshine and rainbows.”
“And we are grumpy.” 
The ward seemed to lessen as the two males laughed before moving to the large sliding door that overlooked your garden. You were laughing, the rays of light seeming to want to follow and dance with you. You were such a breath of air. Untouched by the cruelty of the world and sheltered. It had turned you into the happiest female the two of them had ever met. The glass was always half full in your mind if you didn't decide that it was already running over and just a teeny tiny cup. 
Being paired with them, two grumpy and brooding males, seemed unfair to you most days. You were always laughing, always making jokes, and for 300 years, Eris had protected you from it being any other way. When he had taken you to a diplomatic meeting pre-Amarantha though, that had all changed. 
The bond snapping between you and Azriel had been difficult, life changing, and rewarding. He pursued you, regardless of your known status as Eris's wife and mate, and his pursuit paid off. It had kept you safe from Amarantha, and once they all had been freed, the bond between him and Eris snapped. 
That had been a different journey. The two of them were constantly butting heads, constantly arguing, constantly making you cry. It all ended though when Eris had been brave enough to bluntly address the situation. He had pulled Azriel to him, crashing his lips down on his, and the rest became history. Where everyone else saw a fight during the High Lord's meeting, you saw foreplay. 
Azriel sighed, watching you, and then turned back to Eris. “Why did you avoid me? I worried I had hurt you.” 
“You scented me too heavily. She could hardly hide it.”
Azriel nodded, a scarred hand then taking the other male's calloused one. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. She focused on hiding it from him.”
“I am sorry.”
Eris whispered the words back before leaning his head on Azriel's shoulder. “She's so beautiful and happy.”
“You are also beautiful,” Azriel looked him over. “Though, you are as she says, a grumpy pants.”
Eris huffed. “Odd. She says the same of you.” The ward seemed to drop fully. Allowing Azriel to reach his hands out to door and slide it open. “Brat.” He muttered.
“You'll take care of that later.”
“And you will help?”
You smiled as your mates walked out before jumping with glee. “Eris! There's a bunny!”
“Yeah? I'm sure we have many bunnies, my love.”
You glared at him before turning to Azriel. “Azriel!” You paused dramatically. “There's a bunny!”
The shadowsinger looked to the heir, a small smirk on his face as you stuck your tongue out at him. “Show me, starlight.”
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Ps- I had to fix the tags! I apologize!
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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago
Text
“Why did you ask me that?”
“Huh? What's that, big guy?” Stiles mumbles, answering the query with one of his own without looking away from Derek's laptop screen. The laptop Derek kind of bought for Stiles for when Stiles is at the loft.
Whatever. 
There's a ballpoint pen shoved in the kid's mouth—God, that mouth—and another slid behind an ear, the latter ready and waiting for Stiles to click to death in the In Between Typing Times.
The others dispersed a couple of minutes ago. Apart from Derek and Stiles, only Lydia and Deaton now remain at the loft and they're deep in conversation about the preliminary theory of who or what is killing the humans of Beacon Hills this week, and are standing at the opposite side of the open-plan space, making more coffee. Scott and Malia left to rally the other ʼwolves—not answering their phones as they're at a cinema screening—plus find and talk to Argent to arrange a pack meeting proper about the situation, so they can all work on devising a plan. Granted, there is Peter to consider—who's probably still lurking somewhere, what with lurking being one of his favourite pastimes, and can obviously hear any and all conversations that are, or could be happening inside of the building. Sadly, Derek has never been able to hide much of anything from his uncle though, so.
He thinks about elaborating on the question he asked Stiles, but can't.
He tries not to stare at Stiles, and fails.
Stiles is squinting at the screen with intent and looking like he has forgotten that Derek said anything at all. Or that Derek is still hovering close by. Or that Derek, you know, exists.
Derek is just standing there, all difficult and awkward in his own fucking home and his own fucking body, looming over Stiles like a creeper as Stiles taps away furiously at the keyboard and violently zig-zags a fingertip across the mousepad like an actual lunatic.
Derek almost laughs at that.
The Boy Who Runs With Wolves.
“Why wouldn't I?” Stiles now asks, still mumbling around the chewed ballpoint Derek is trying not to be jealous of. 
“I—what?” Derek's caught off guard; always and only by Stiles. 
Stiles doesn't skip a beat, unlike Derek's heart. “Why wouldn't I ask?” he adds.
Oh, right.
“I, uh, I don't... ” Derek trails off pathetically, swallowing any confidence he had previously mustered and looking away from Stiles, even though those big, brown devastating eyes aren't actually looking at Derek because they are, of course, still zoomed-in on whichever web page is currently yielding the most information.
Dusk is quickly closing in and all around them and the light filtering through the loft's huge window has begun to dim somewhat, so that the glow of the computer screen is now filling Stiles' eyes with bright, dancing sparks and arrhythmic shapes as they flicker like lightning from one tab to another, then another, then another. And as mesmerising as it is to watch—Stiles looking as though he is brimming with magic—the sight becomes too much for Derek, and looking away feels like his only option.
It doesn't last.
Stiles' long, large-knuckled fingers still their rapid movement just as Derek's eyes find their way back.
Derek watches the kid some more, like a lifeline.
An anchor.
Then, Stiles is taking the pen from those perfect lips as sneaker-toes slowly spin the swivel chair around, so that Stiles is now facing Derek where he stands with arms crossed reactively over his chest.
His heart.
“I asked if you were alright because I wanted to know if you were okay, man," Stiles divulges, as if that's nothing at all. As if it's something Derek hears often. He tilts his head to catch Derek's eye, which works, of course, because it always works, no matter the nature of the moment they're caught up in. "Like, I was concerned, y`know?” 
Derek feels guilty just for looking. And not only because he wants to touch but because he wants to let Stiles care.
“I care, dude,” Stiles says on cue and Derek tries to self-implode while Stiles waits, probably for Derek to look at him and say don't call me dude and hoping not to have his head bitten off or his throat ripped out. 
Derek does look again, just not for long. Barely a glance. He can't afford himself too much Stiles, not when Stiles is looking directly back at him. It's safer that way—self-preservation and all.
“You do know that, right?” Stiles tries again. “That I care.” 
Derek wants to ask Stiles if they can talk, if Derek can tell Stiles things. Derek wants to ask Stiles if he'll stay, and if he'll let Derek spill his secrets, let him tell Stiles everything, like Derek never does with anyone these days, and if Stiles will hold Derek's hand when Derek cries about it, like Derek doesn’t allow himself to anymore. Derek wants to ask Stiles if Derek can touch him and hold him and if Stiles would hold him back, if Stiles would ever want that, if Stiles could ever be his.
“Don't call me dude,” is what he actually says because he can't not. But then he steals himself, head staticky and heart thumping as he dares himself to add—after what is undeniably too-long a pause—“And yeah. Maybe I do.” 
Then they just look at each other.
Just—look.
Look and look and look and look.
They each keep looking at the other, for a very long time. Definitely too long for two people supposedly not much more than acquaintances. Allies, maybe. Comrades at tenuous best.
Then they look for longer. Look for more. Look until it starts to feel as if they are the only two people in the room, in the building, in the world.
Whatever happened to self-preservation?
Something is starting to happen, and Derek is pretty sure it's not just happening to him, and he finds he is equally stunned as he is thrilled as he is completely fucking terrified about it. 
Eventually, Stiles says, “Derek, we're friends.”
Then he's licking his lips and looking Derek up and down, shameless, adding—with a nonchalant shrug of one shoulder—“Till we're not.”
The latter part is spoken like a secret, but one without the slightest hint of malice. That's not how he means it. It's more promise than threat, if Derek is remembering correctly what genuine affirmations sound like.
The sparks from Stiles' eyes are then flashing blue in Derek's and Derek could swear he hears every every one of his neurons firing inside of himself, all at once, as each of his mutated cells flare into overdrive; nail beds and gums tingling, the short hairs on the back of his neck and arms and hands standing up on end.
He feels utterly alive.
It's honestly a struggle not to keen and whine like a pup, and Derek has truly never been more happy of the fact that Stiles is unable to scent chemo-signals because Derek would be so fucked right now.
He has a reply for Stiles but it's caught in his throat, the sentence forming then solidifying, fast as a quick-drying glue.
Derek is just—standing there. Statuesque. Alternating between trying to swallow his words down and attempting to speak them, like a first class dipshit. Just looking and looking and looking at Stiles.
In an entirely mortifying turn of events, it is actually the sound of Peter's low, mocking chuckle from some tucked-away shadowy place in the loft that is the thing that forces Derek unstuck, and it takes all Derek has to not roll his eyes to the back of his skull and growl out I'm going to kill you again now, Uncle. 
He takes a breath, un-clenches his fists and tries for a smile—or at least a hint of one. He doesn't want to freak the kid out.
Derek then manages to repeat Stiles's words back at him, no more than a whisper.
“Till we're not.”
Stiles is just looking and looking and looking at Derek, before he's asking, “Can I stay for the evening? You can talk to me while I research. I always work better with noise. It'll be soothing,” like he's ordering pizza instead of answering all of Derek's prayers.
Derek notes how the kid's usually erratic eye-contact is weirdly as unwavering as his usually erratic heartbeat, which is now weirdly steady as a metronome.
That's a lot of weird. 
Derek fights the urge to bite into his lip with his fangs. He wants to draw blood, and to taste it.
He embarrassingly feels his eye twitch and his breath hitch as he dares himself to do this. 
He sputters, “What do you want me to talk about?”
Stiles slowly swivels back towards the light of the laptop—ethereal milky skin and dark moles once again luminous in its white-blue glow—at the very same time as the evening's first moonshine peeks through clouds and seeps in through the loft's huge skylight.
Derek is memorised. 
Stiles starts annoyingly clicking away at the Clicking Pen, while shoving the other back between those beautiful lips of his, now mumbling his words around the thing once more and speaking them as if they are the most obvious thing in the universe.
“Everything, Der.”
.
for @poebin for asking <3 (unedited, soz)
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